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THE 



RECORDS 

OP A 


VILLAGE LITERAEY ASSOCIATION. 



PHILADELPHIA : 

WILLIS P. HAZZARD, 

178 CHESTNUT STREET. 

1855. 


o.>^; 





I 



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t 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by 

ALEX. C. BRYSON, (for the Editor,) 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, 
in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 


ALEX. 0. BRTSON, PRINTER, 

141 Chestnut Street. 


CONTENTS 


Dedication 6 

Pkeface - 9 

Hans Ddndeemann: the Dutch Miser 11 

The Wisdom of preserving Moderation in our Wishes.. 43 

The Sice Mother 53 

The Excellencies of Lying 75 

The Alchemist; or, The Magic Funnel 87 

The Beauty op a well-cultivated Heart 123 

The Dream of a Loafer 133 

Conclusion 213 


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DEDICATION. 

« - 


• 

In this age of prolific intellects, neither^ author nor editor is 
compelled to search for a patron of letters amongst a horde of 
illiterate and conceited noblemen, addle-pated princes and 
lords; nor is he, in this progressive country, constrained to 
beg the favor of some distinguished demagogue’s name to give 
caste or currency to the lucubrations of his brain, or the com- 
pilations of his industry. This may be regarded as a very fa- 
vorable change in the times, yet it is not without its inconve- 
niences, which the editor has fully experienced. Not being bold 
enough to violate a well-established precedent, and send his 
volume forth into the world without a dedication, he was for 
a while sorely perplexed in his inquiries for a proper person to 
whom to inscribe it. Although modern progress could freely 
dispense with the patronage of the nobility, it still retains the 
practice which perpetuates their former importance in the lite- 
rary market. Thus the author who is too cautious to trample 
upon a time-honored custom, is frequently no little embarrassed 
in his laudable efforts to observe it, not having an array of 
aristocratic vanity, ever ready to be redeemed from its insig- 
nificance through a lying dedication, from which to make a 
choice to' please his fancy. 

True, the editor might have determined to send his volume 
adrift under false colors, by writing some imaginary creature’s 
name upon the title-page, and then dedicated it to himself, — for 
which, no doubt, he could have found precedents enough. 

( 5 ) 


6 


DEDICATION. 


After giving to this idea the careful deliberation to which it 
was entitled, he came to the conclusion that no better expedi- 
ent could be devised to provide him with an even disposition ; 
for should he hear his name noised about by every fool and knave, 
who are always so vociferous in their praise or censure as to 
overrule entirely the worthier opinions of the wise and honest, 
his temper would never fall below the seethfng point. He 
therefore wisely avoided, in this wilful manner, to hazard both 
his character and his happiness. “But,” he hears you ask, 
“had he no rich and flourishing acquaintance, who would 
gladly have permitted the inscription, and verily believed it a 
great honor ?” He is not so fortunate (or imfortunate, if you 
please,) as to be without at least a score of the kind; but not 
one of whom would have failed to degrade his book, through a 
cursed propensity “ to turn everything into a speculation.” 
Then, too, he might have dedicated it to some personal friend, 
but upon looking around, he could see none whom he particu- 
larly desired to own as^ such, except a few poor fellows with 
whom he occasionally whiles away an entertaining hour on a 
gloomy Sunday. Amongst these, however, he recognised none 
whose poverty,— than which few things sooner fall under the 
ban of the world, — did not seem too hejavy a burthen to be 
borne by so unpretending a production. 

In this dilemma, his benevolence, perhaps a little influenced 
by the thought that the man who reads his book is his best 
friend, came to his aid, and he at once concluded that it should 
be generously and freely 

DEDICATED TO THE READER. 

He is not impelled to this by a design to propitiate' the favor, to 
influence the judgment, or to moderate the criticisms of any 
one, but simply and solely by the charitable desire of pleasing 
all. He thus provokes no one’s envy by showing more favor to 


DEDICATION. 


7 


another, and gives to each the opportunity of having a book de- 
dicated to himself. Lest, however, the editor should furnish 
but another illustration of the maxim, that “they who seek to 
please aU, will surely succeed in pleasing none,” it is here care- 
fully set down — that should any not wish the distinction sought 
-to be conferred upon him in this* dedication, he may rest well 
assured that it was not in the least designed for him. With 
this happy disposition to accommodate all, he has only to ask 
of the reader, that his book be not consigned, before ascertain- 
ing what it is made of, to some murky closet, to keep company 
with the dusty and decaying volumes already imprisoned there ; 
and for the faithful observance of this request, he subscribes 
himself, 

. Most respectfully and sincerely. 

His Reader’s wellwisher and friend. 


The Editor. 


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PREFACE. 


If it has been established as a precedent that every book should 
. have a dedication, it has been more imperatively enjoined that 
none should make its appearance without a -preface. These 
are matters of punctilio which it might appear ill-breeding to 
neglect, and constitute the soft and easy civilities through 
which books find favor in the eyes of their readers. As no 
one is disposed kindly to welcome the rude boor who intrudes 
into his presence, and without a polite nod or pleasant smile at 
once encounters him with rough speech, so none is inclined to 
enter upon the perusal of a volume without first knowing some- 
what concerning it. 

Now, it is only necessary for the editor, in the discharge of 
his trifling duty, to inform the reader that sometime ago the 
records of an old -association came into 'his possession. The 
precise date when this junto was formed could not be definitely 
discovered, yet it has been certainly ascertained that it was 
gifted with a very peculiar kind of life — surpassing, in the te- 
nacity with which it adhered to existence, the nine lives ascribed 
to the cat. Though it had been defunct, to all appearances, 
more than a dozen times, it was as often revived to flourish 
again for a brief period. Not many years have elapsed since 
it received its last blow ; but whether this has given it the finai 
quietus, being neither a diviner nor prophet, the editor cannot 
decide : yet he is inclined to the opinion, that if those of the 
' ( 9 ) 


10 


PREFACE. 


present generation will do nothing to -restore it to life again, 
their rising posterity will not suffer it to sleep in peace. 

It was the design of this organization to unite the useful 
with the amusing, and each member was required to furnish 
his quota of the one or the other. The consequence was that 
a large number of papers were collected together, some of which 
are now “for the first time given to the world.” Whether the 
world will do them the honor to value them, remains to be 
seen ; yet the editor flatters himself, that in the deluge of lite- 
rature which this age is incessantly pouring forth upon the 
poor reader, they will float along with the endless array of 
small craft, and perhaps his book may prove as successful as 
some others in contributing its just portion to produce the wreck 
and ruin of some better and worthier production. 

The Magi of Persia were at one time the depositories of 
learning. With us the people are the Magi, and although their 
unaccountable tastes and Quixotic fancies have heretofore ele- 
vated into note the effusions of many a fool who experimented 
upon their discrimination, and permitted the productions of 
some very wise men to sink into utter and irredeemable obli- 
vion, the editor still trusts — if not to their judgment, then 
(which may be safer for him,) to their good-natured indulgence. 
He is fully aware that his book contains nothing above their 
comprehensions, and is not in the least apprehensive that they 
will condemn the Eecords, as an old council did the Petit 
Office^ because ^^signo” was spelt with a C instead of an S: 
much less does he fear that his freedom will be endangered for 
the reason which prompted the same council to arrest the 
Prince de la Mirandola, because “so much learning in so 
young a person could only be acquired by a coinpact with the 
devil.” 

Maueice Eugene. 


Phuadelphu, March 26 , 1855 . 


A MANUSCRIPT, 

PREFIXED TO THE FOLLOWING TALE, AND SUPPOSED TO HAVE 
BEEN WRITTEN BY THE SECRETARY OF THE JUNTO. 


The author of the following paper vouches for the correctness 
of the whole story, having himself received it from the person 
who enacted the part of the spirit therein. When it was read 
at our meeting, a large number of listeners, who had been en- 
joying themselves in promiscuous conversation, were seated 
around the table in a cheerful circle. Although some were at 
Srst inclined, perhaps more from a habit to find fault than 
^rom a displeasure at the tale itself, to cavil at and doubt it 
rather than to be amused, there was an honest and bewitching 
humor in the face of the speaker which alone seemed to entitle 
his story to full belief : so that by the time he had finished it, 
but one or two continued serious, whilst all the rest at once 
agreed that it was creditable in every particular. Whether 
they were not influenced to this conclusion more through their 
mirth than their careful judgment, I could not well ascertain ; 
yet I am disposed to think, they merely meant to “ take the 
story for what it was worth.” 

An old gentleman now advanced, who had not only been care- 
ful all his life long to avoid the frivolities of the world, but 
who had also experienced some of its rough realities, if true 
inferences were deducible from his care-worn appearance and 
( 11 ) 


13 


RECORDS. 


/ 


/ thread-bare garments. Not satisfied. with what had been read, 
the old man gazed inquiringly into the speaker’s face, and then 
so overwhelmed the poor fellow with troublesome questions, that 
he resolved from that moment never to read or narrate another 
story, without previously demanding a solemn pledge from his 
auditory that they will remain content with what he may choose 
to give them, and under no circumstances trouble him for 
further explanations. Whilst thus pelted with the old man’s 
queries to his great relief a smiling little gentleman stepped 
up, and turning to the questioner, told him that every story 
would be spoiled by too much minuteness in its narration ; that 
wherever he found a blank he should fill it up with his own 
fancy, otherwise he would experience nothing but annoyance ; 
and that the moral of the tale he had heard, simply warned 
him against too strong a love for worldly things, — a warning 
for which I could see no necessity in his case, — so that if h« 
should ever be tempted by spirits or ghosts, he might avoid the 
alarming fatalities which so seriously afflicted poor Hans Dun- 
dermann. 


S 


T. 


HANS HUNHEKMANN : THE 


HUTCH MISER. 


One ' of the most foolish and deplorable passions that 
could possibly influence the conduct of men, is that 
wretched penuriousness so frequently encountered in 
our intercourse with some of our fellows. We often 
find it the object of hatred and contempt, of disgust 
and ridicule, and even of a hitter malice which, if not 
just, seldom secures censure or elicits rebuke. We 
rarely see it exhibited to a very marked degree in men 
of substantial intelligence or liberal experience in the 
socialities of life, and its generous interchanges of 
friendship. When discovered in such, it is usually the 
part of discretion to avoid, if possible, a close intimacy 
with them. The wider range of their knowledge, and 
their greater sagacity, though rendering them less con- 
temptible, only make them the more dangerous. It not 
unfrequently, however, constitutes the ruling principle 
of those not possessed of a ^perior order of intellect, 
( 18 ) !J 


14 


EGORDS. 


and whose ideas of life are measured by the narrow 
aims for which they contend and struggle. This may, 
perhaps, be greatly owing to the fact that wealth con- 
sists of material things, which they can readily see and 
appreciate ; whilst the riches that pertain to mind and 
heart, not being directly visible to them, are beyond 
their comprehension. 

I have a German acquaintance who resides in a small 
village at which I occasionally sojourn, and who is 
known by the euphonious nomenclature of Dutch Hans 
Dundermann. Whether this be the name he lawfully 
inherited from his paternal ancestors, or whether certain 
peculiarities of which he is remarkably possessed, and 
which are by no means well calculated to render him an 
agreeable companion, or make him a desirable neighbV, 
can claim the credit of having obtained for him so mu- 
sical an appellation, the villagers have not yet been able 
positively to determine. However he may have ac- 
quired this title of recognition, which can be matter of 
small consequence to the present generation of the vil- 
lagers, and much less to their rising posterity, he is one 
of those inveterate misers who have no scruples to check 
their desire for acquisition, and whose parsimonious 
propensities invariably incur general ridicule and dis- 
pleasure. Whatever of good may be in their composi- 
tions is totally overshadowed by the sordid motives which 


. HANS HUNDERMANN. 15 

usually govern them, and thus they always prove suc- 
cessful in arousing the disgust of all with whom they 
may come in contact. This miserly element in Hans 
Dundermann’s character is so exceedingly prominent 
that it. is supposed to counterbalance and control his 
entire nature. It is constantly urging him to the com- 
mission of acts which his neighbors readily construe 
into heinous offences, and it has accordingly earned for 
him no very enviable reputation. To describe to any 
one acquainted with him the height of petty and dis- 
gusting meanness, it is only necessary to use his name 
in the adjective form; and the attempts to do so are 
not unfrequently even more ridiculous than the subjects 
*which occasion them. Hans, however, though he may 
exert himself to increase his store, if not absolutely lazy, 
is not free from the slowness of his native race ; to 
which he adds a stupidity so excessively Dutch, that 
scarcely anything beyond the glitter of a coin can make 
the least impression upon his mind. 

After thus briefly introducing my acquaintance in as 
favorable a manner as circumstances permit, I will nar- 
rate a little incident in the adventurous portion of his 
life, which occurred whilst he was yet in the vigor of 
manhood physically, and intellectually no better off 
than he is now. Time, which never progresses without 
making some changes, has utterly failed to renovate or 


16 


RECORDS. 


improve him. Whilst advancing years have worn upon 
his bodily powers, apparentfy the only tiling impressible 
about him, experience has had no effect, either for the 
better or worse, upon 'his mind, into which no idea, un- 
less connected with his ruling desire, seems capable of 
penetrating. A life so selfish, and absorbed in the con- 
templation of one thing, and that by no means as well 
intended to expand his intellect as to contract his heart, 
can afford but little of adventure ; yet the trifles which 
we sometimes encounter in such a life, are so peculiar 
in their nature, or so marked in their effects, that we 
welcome and enjoy them the more.* They often pro- 
voke our merriment or elicit our surprise, excite our 
admiration or awaken our sympathies. The cold torpor 
which becomes natural to the inactive man through the 
eternal sameness of his daily career, renders him a fit- 
ting and interesting object for our gaze when he is 
drawn into positions demanding the exercise of his en- 
ergies. Whatever may be the effect of the occurrences 
here related — ^whether their recital may interest or prove 
tedious — they certainly constitute the most prominent 
events in the life of my acquaintance^ the Dutch miser 
of the village. 

A party of young men who had for years been in 
the habit of congregating twice each week at the south- 
ern corner of the village school-house, to review the 


HANS DUNDERMANN. 


17 


gossip of the neighborhood and amuse themselves with 
» boyish sports on the pleasant play-grounds of the scho- 
lars; or, by way of variety, occasionally to contrive 
some idle mischief to disturb the equanimity of the 
usually quiet and industrious villagers ; at one of these 
frequent meetings determined to exhibit, in some ex- 
traordinary manner, Hans Dundermann^s passion for 
money. V arious expedients were accordingly suggested, 
and duly discussed and considered, until they finally 
resolved upon one supposed to be capable of accom- 
plishing the end in view. After levying a contribution 
amongst themselves of all the antiquated coin they could 
obtain, — for they wisely concluded that he could not be 
aroused from his accustomed stupidity but through the 
instrumentality of such a token, — the sum was secretly 
conveyed to him. This was accompanied by a very 
mysterious letter, which purported to be the favor of 
some supernatural power. It spoke of the coin as 
coming from an almost inexhaustible fund, and gener- 
ously concluded by fully recognising him as a judicious 
person to be entrusted with the care and keeping of so 
valuable a treasure. As was anticipated, this had a 
marvelous effect upon him. He straightways connected 
it with a standing' tale of the village, which he had 
heard upon different occasions, and which had more 
than once greatly excited his curiosity. It was a well- 
8 * 


18 


RECORDS. 


circulated tradition^ (and what town has not a similar 
j one ?) that many years before the village numbered a 
score of substantial buildings, vast treasures were un- 
doubtedly hidden in its immediate vicinity. He had 
frequently heard how a wealthy Englishman, at a time 
the date whereof was never definitely fixed, had lived 
near the village in all imaginable splendor, and how he 
had died without leaving even so much as a shilling to 
be found upon his entire premises. This splendid 
gentleman (so runs the tradition,) had been the de- 
scendant of a prominent English nobleman attached to 
the house of Lancaster, who, when the Red Rose drooped 
under the terror inspired by the triumph of the house 
of York, had gathered together his estates, which of 
course were very large, and retired from the kingdom. 
The union of the two Roses, which followed the extinc- 
tion of the Plantagenets, and the partiality exhibited 
by Henry VII. towards the Lancastrians, never 
tempted him to return. The last of his descendants, 
inheriting all his wealth, yet depressed by the death of 
friends and connexions, eventually emigrated to Ame- 
rica, and took up his abode near the village. Here he 
revelled in all the luxuries that riches could supply, 
and when nothing was discovered after his decease, the 
great surprise of the villagers soon conjured up numer- 
ous tales of hidden wealth, which have ever since been 


HANS DUNDERMANN. 19 

carefully trausmitted to eacli succeeding generation. It 
was with one of these that Hans associated the myste- 
rious epistle. 

After they had thus interested the miser’s feelings, 
one of the company visited him on the evening of the 
following day. When brought into the presence of 
Hans, he commenced a train of very vague remarks, as 
though he had something important to reveal, yet 
seemed doubtful whether it were better to make it known 
than to (treasure the secret. Confining himself to the 
subjects which he knew were ever uppermost in Hans’ 
thoughts, he soon succeeded in drawing the miser into 
a very animated conversation, which, however, was ren- 
dered somewhat uneasy by his mysterious demeanor. 
From some cause or other, perhaps because he was 
thinking of the matter at the time, for he had thought 
of little else during the entire day, Hans immediately 
surmised that his visitor sustained some connexion with 
the singular letter he had received. This impression 
was not only strengthened more and more by every 
word that fell from the stranger, but his very dress, 
which gave him the appearance of a fashionable gen- 
tleman of the preceding century, seemed to confirm it. 
When, however, his visitor introduced the general care- 
lessness of the world, a point upon which Hans had 
always been well decided, and to which alone, he had 


80 


RECORDS. 


often said; was to be attributed all tbe poverty in it, be 
became certain that bis surmise was correct, and watched 
carefully for something which might reveal the rich 
mine referred to in that mysterious and treasured billet. 
When he had been worked into a state of uncontrollable 
anxiety and excitement, the stranger, still preserving 
his mysterious air, suddenly rose from his seat, and 
rolling his eyes upwards in an agonized manner, pre- 
ceded by several terrible yawns, he rapidly repeated a 
few very singular words, not found in Hans^ vocabulary, 
if in any other. This had the desired effect, for it so 
surprised and stupefied the poor Dutchman that the 
stranger, in the increasing darkness, readily made his 
exit unobserved. After the miser had somewhat re- 
covered from the shock occasioned to his nerves and 
ascertained that his visitor had vanished, it was clear 
to him that the stranger could not have disappeared as 
he had entered, but must either have sunk through the 
floor or ascended through the ceiling. Recollecting the 
supplicating manner in which he had turned up his 
eyes, Hans quickly inferred that the latter was the 
course he had taken, and under the exciting circum- 
stances of the occasion, it was not long before the in- 
ference became a conviction which has ever since been 
most sacredly believed and maintained. 

Now, Hans Dundermann, it should be known, had 


HANS DIJNDERMANN. 31 

frequently held interesting conversations with Heinrich 
Speitzer and Yorick Bozum, two of his most intimate 
friends in vaterland/^ and was perfectly satisfied that 
ghosts and spirits had as real an existence as gold and 
silver, . though their presence was far less acceptable. 
He used to listen to the stories of these tried compan- 
ions, and tremble from head to foot when he was told 
how the wicked Frederick Metzel, on a dark and dismal 
winter’s night, had been claimed in pursuance of a con- 
tract, attested by his own hand and seal, and carried off 
by the devil, amid great lightning and thunder, to no 
one knew whither ; for the place of his abode was be- 
yond the power of human discovery. It is true some 
of his warmest friends, who had always been his com- 
panions, and enjoyed his favors during his prosperity, 
and who had never neglected to sound his praises upon 
every fitting occasion, now shook their heads signifi- 
cantly and solemnly whenever his name Was mentioned. 
This may have been intended as nothing but an exhi- 
bition of their deep regret for what they had lost, yet 
the uncharitable soon interpreted it unfavorably for the 
future of poor Frederick, whilst the more humane and 
hopeful remained silent, simply because they knew not 
what to say. IJans still remembered how the spirit of 
old Herr Yon Reicher, sorely troubled because he had 
refused to reveal an important secret before his depart- 


records. 


sa 

ure from the lower world, returned to the home six 
months previously left to mourn his death, and made 
known to the daughter of his grand-child, — who had 
always been diis favorite, — the cause that prevented 
his rest. This was done by directing her to a dark and 
almost impenetrable recess of his castle, where great 
treasures were concealed, which he had hoarded up and 
frequently visited during his life. Now, however, that 
he had no further occasion for such visits, his sense of 
justice, which had never in the least troubled him 
whilst living, would not permit him to deprive his 
friends, who had so carefully attended to his dying 
wants, of so valuable a secret, nor his creditors of the 
only means through which their demands could be sa- 
tisfied. Nor had Hans Dundermann forgotten how the 
son of Karl Reiser, a pleasant companion with whom 
he had spent many hours rehearsing wonderful tales, 
the accuracy of which he never doubted, had been ac- 
costed in the rough woods, on a dark October night, by 
a copper-colored man, dut of the crown of whose head 
issued a constant flame of fire, and led several leagues 
from home. What had been the object of this singu- 
lar and startling apparition — whether it had been an evil 
spirit and intended the young man as one of its vic- 
tims, or whether it had merely meant to disclose some 
great and troublesome mystery — ^had to remain unde- 


HANS DUNDERMANN. 33 

termined, for day intervened and summoned the vision 
to its abiding place. Many surmises were occasioned 
by this strange affair, vouched for by the person him- 
self whom it most concerned ; but the majority agreed 
in the opinion that no harm had been intended to the 
young man, otherwise the spectre would not have waited 
until daylight to be deprived of its prey: others ex- 
pressed their conviction that it simply designed to re- 
lieve itself of some serious trouble, whilst there was 
still a third class who pronounced the matter all a fool- 
ish tale, which owed its origin to too much Ehienish 
wine and the cold winds of October. 

Whilst Hans was reflecting upon these marvelous 
stories of his youthful wonder, and thus endeavoring to 
assist his mind in determining the character of his late 
visitor, he gave evident signs of being engaged in a 
new employment. Although he had heard many 
strange things in his time, and often threw up his hands 
towards the skies, opened his mouth as wide as nature 
permitted, and exclaimed “mein Gottf^ in surprise, 
he certainly had never before been called upon to de- 
cide whether any of his visions had been a ghost or a 
spirit, a witch or the devil himself. In this trouble- 
some dilemma he resolved to consult his old housekeeper, 
whom he had brought with him from Germany, and 
whose greater age and experience, he hoped, might be 


RECORDS. 


Q4 

capable of relieving him from bis perplexity. This in- 
dispensable article of bis bonsebold seemed to have de- 
scended to bim with bis father’s estate, and presented 
an appearance even more than ridiculously Dutch ; but 
Hans bad been taught to regard her as a pattern of 
good taste, and as she bad always manifested the 
strongest devotion to bis interests, be never doubted 
her superior excellence. To give a faint description of 
her would be no trifling labor, for she bad apparently 
been worked together by nature without reference* to 
form or proportion ; and whenever seen, was invariably 
covered with a superfluous amount of greasy calico, 
which seemed to have no other support but a twisted 
chord that encircled her extensive waist. Her head 
was remarkable for nothing but a large quantity of light 
flaxen hair, to which the sun had failed to give a rud- 
dier tinge, although, as since her twentieth year she 
had scarcely ever worn a covering, it had shone upon her 
pate fairly and with full effect for more than thirty 
summers. Increasing age, though it had robbed her 
of her teeth, put wrinkles in her face, and somewhat 
loosened her joints, seemed to be equally powerless to 
make the least visible impression upon it. The singular 
conduct of the stranger, who had been observed but 
casually by the old woman as he had entered, was fully 
considered and commented upon by her and Hans. 


HANS DUNHERMANN. 25 

Thougli she sympathized with him as much as her na- 
ture permitted; and gave ample evidence of her desire 
to render him all possible assistance, she could offer no 
suggestions which tended in the least to solve the mys- 
tery. Her many exclamations^ however, if useless in 
the explication of a nlysterious and difficult problem, 
brought some relief ; and thus consoled, he reluctantly 
concluded to await the full development of what he be- 
lieved had just fairly commenced with the letter he 
had received and the visit of the stranger. 

Whatever this may forebode,^^ said Hans, it is so 
very strange that we must wait until the end shall 
come ; yet I hope that my end may not be like that of 
Frederick Metzel. Let me be spared the terrors that fell 
to the lot of Karl Reiser’s son, and if the worst should 
come, let it be no worse than that which happened to the 
great-grand-daughter of Herr Yon Reicher.” 

These remarkable occurrences, constituting some of 
the most startling he had stored up in his memory, had 
been so repeatedly told to his housekeeper, with great 
embellishments, that she had become perfectly familiar 
with them. Although Hans did not much like to have 
dealings with spirits ; yet, had he been certain that the 
mysterious stranger would never afterwards have troubled 
him, he would gladly have entertained him once more, 
if assured of a revelation similar to that made to the 
3 


536 


HECORDS. 


youthful daughter of Herr Yon Reicher’s grand- 
child. 

Yes, yes/^ responded the old woman, whose frame 
trembled violently at the supposition that calamities so 
terrible could possibly befall them, heaven avert such 
fatalities ! Surely, Hans, nothing of this kind can 
happen to us, for you have never had any intercourse 
with the evil one, nor have you ever been closely allied 
to any of those poor creatures whose spirits are not even 
permitted to rest quietly in their graves.^' 

As he had thus, for several days been moved by 
strange thoughts, it was observed by those whom he 
happened to meet that a very singular change had sud- 
denly come over him. His actions seemed to be dic- 
tated by a variety of conflicting impulses, and the little 
mind he had once possessed was absent more than half 
the time. He would make long pauses in his conver- 
sation, abruptly change from one topic to another, and 
occasionally, to the great amazement of those with 
whom he conversed, he would walk off before he had 
half completed a sentence. Then, too, he was frequently 
seen to stop in his solitary walks and engage in earnest 
conversation with himself, a smile sometimes animating 
his countenance, whilst at others he appeared very sul- 
len and dejected. On several of these occasions he was 
overheard to speak audibly of spirits and treasures, 


HANS DUNDERMANN. S7 

# 

wticli so greatly surprised all wlio heard him that some 
even suggested an investigation into his soundness of 
mind. To those acquainted with the design to pjay 
upon his stupid and credulous nature, it was daily be- 
coming more apparent that he believed vast quantities 
of gold were somewhere concealed in the vicinity, and 
that he was troubled to know where, and how he could 
secure them. At length his changed demeanor became 
the subject of remark throughout the entire neighbor- 
hood. Some of the villagers, in their efforts to account 
for it, expressed the belief that his heart was beginning ^ 
to soften and that he was relenting of his former penuri- 
ousness — a reformation which, in his case, it was gen- 
erally conceded would have been sufficient to account 
for his singular conduct. Others, however, more strenu- 
ously maintained, that so far from his heart undergoing 
so fkvorable a change, it was simply passing through 
the last stages of ossification. That the former were 
mistaken in their charitable surmises, was soon ascen 
tained by an experiment eminently calculated to arouse 
his generosity ; but there are those still amongst the 
latter, who contend that they were correct in their 
opinion, and are determined to obtain positive evidence 
of the fact, upon the miser^s decease, through the aid 
of an anatomist, who has already been duly engaged 
for that purpose. 


RECORDS. 


S8 

When it was supposed that Hans was exclusively 
abstracted in the train of reflections suggested to his 
mind by the circumstances related, it was deemed ex- 
pedient for the stranger to venture another visit, which 
he accordingly did. It so happened that he obtained 
admission unobserved into the same room in which he 
had before met Hans, and giving seven distinct raps 
on the old oaken floor, he was soon brought into the 
presence of the miser. After the latter’s surprise had 
partially subsided, and his face assumed something like 
its original hue, the stranger commenced addressing 
him in a manner equally hasty and incoherent, but Hans 
was all attention as if determined to absorb the import 
of every word as it was uttered. He by no means com- 
prehended all that was said, yet he distinctly under-' 
stood the request of his visitor to meet him that night, 
at the hour of twelve, at the edge of the wood bor- 
dering on the western extremity of the village, where 
the important secret was to be revealed. The stranger 
had scarcely finished this request, when he was seized 
with a violent cough, resulting from a stream of munched 
tobacco which had unforbidden entered down his 
gullet, as if offended at being imprisoned within his 
mouth whilst personating a character whose dignity 
would not permit him to eject it. Giving vent to an 
almost inaudible curse, which was unfortunately mis- 


HANS DUNDERMANN. 29 

taken for a call for water, Hans immediately seized a 
pitcher, and hurried out of the room, informing the old 
housekeeper, as he was in the act of passing her in the 
kitchen, of the presence of the spirit. Upon her re- 
minding him that spirits were never in want of such 
earthly necessaries, surprised at his own absence of 
thought, he dropped the pitcher and quickly returned ; 
but the stranger, no doubt glad of so favorable an op- 
portunity, had disappeared. 

Hans Dundermann, at the earnest entreaty of his old 
housekeeper, whom I shall here name Malchen, not be- 
cause she was so christened, but simply out of solicitude 
for the jaw-bones of those who might attempt to pro- 
nounce her ponderous title were it fully given, retired 
to his bed at an early hour that evening. It has already 
been stated that he desired no intimacy with spirits, 
and especialy with such as disappeared so unexpectedly; 
but his endeavors to banish from his mind the request 
of the stranger were unavailing, and the tempting 
promise which accompanied it would not permit him 
to close his eyes in sleep. Impelled by an irresistable 
anxiety to secure the imagined treasure, he arose from 
his bed, and walked up and down the room in great 
agitation until within a few minutes of midnight. 
His love of gold, however, at last succeeded in conquer- 
ing his fears, so, seizing a German bible, which had 
3 * 


30 


RECORDS. 


^evidently grown antiquated by neglect amid dus^and cob- 
webS; and cautiously placing it in bis capacious pocket, 
for be bad often beard that whilst be bad so good a 
book about bis person no evil spirit could barm bim, 
be repaired to tbe appointed spot. Here be bad for some 
time been intently peering into tbe dark wood, when 
suddenly be beard a strange noise behind him, and 
upon turning be obtained a full view of tbe stranger, 
who bad taken tbe precaution to provide against tbe 
prevailing darkness by a lantern, tbe red rays of which 
only gave to everything around a more gloomy appear^ 
ance. Hans involuntarily startled and most heartily 
wished himself in bis bed again, but it was now too 
late. Gazing supplicatingly into tbe pale face of tbe 
spirit, for be was fully persuaded that be stood in tbe 
presence of a veritable spirit, be commenced imploringly 
inquiring about bis personal safety and tbe prospect of 
securing tbe treasure. His appeal, however, failed to 
draw a word of consolation or encouragement from bis 
supernatural companion who simply indicated by a sign 
that silence bad to be observed, and pointing into tbe 
uninviting wood signified to him to move on. Tremb- 
lingly tbe miser proceeded, frequently staring wildly 
around. Whether it was all imagination, or a fancy 
which bad some substance for its basis, be certainly 
thought, upon passing several large trees, be saw odd 


HANS DUNHERMANN. 31 

figures behind them. However this may have been, a 
death-like silence was maintained, nor did Hans seem in- 
clined to break it after his first rebuff. At length they 
arrived at a small old building, which, though it was 
not many miles from his residence, he had never before 
seen. All now surrounding him was dark and strange, 
and he gazed upon the structure with mingled emotions 
the like of which he had never before experienced. 
Whilst endeavoring to collect his wandering wits during 
this momentary halt at the antiquated building, an un- 
earthly howl was suddenly set up around it, which so 
frightened him that he at once attempted to test what 
virtue there was in his heels. Alas ! poor Hans ! His 
knees knocked together and his frame shook so violently, 
he could not move. He was as much a prisoner to his 
terror as the chained criminal in his cell. It was now 
that the solicitous advice of his faithful ■ Malchen came 
rushing upon his memory, and he deplored the folly 
which had caused him to disobey it. His regrets how- 
ever, it is believed, were more owing to the wealth he had 
left behind him than to his having disregarded her good 
advice, for he began to apprehend that he should 
never see it more. During this interval of his great 
consternation, the spirit had remained perfectly calm 
and composed ; and after the noise had entirely subsided 
it again exhorted him to silence, and softly whispered 


33 


KECORDS. 


into his ears that the place was surrounded and protected 
by numerous imps of the devil who had been commis- 
sioned to guard the treasure. Though many before 
Hans’ time may have been in equally close contact 
with some of Satan’s extensive brood and felt no fear, 
and although he had spent nearly all his days in execu- 
ting to their master an indisputable title to himself, he 
found no consolation in what the spirit had told him. 
If he was inclined to render service to Lucifer he pre- 
ferred doing so at a more convenient distance from him. 

Without any visible intervention of the spirit, at least 
such is the testimony of Hans Dundermann, an opening 
into the cellar of the building now appeared. Here he 
was bidden to enter, which he did more through fear 
than inclination, attended by his mysterious guide. 
The red glare reflected by the lantern, gave the place a 
very solemn and haunted appearance, and made the old 
walls resemble more the neglected ruins of some vene- 
rable edifice, than what they purported to be. They 
had evidently been built when masonic skill was in its 
infancy and when huge, substantjial clumsiness was the 
fashion. He surveyed the cavern, for such it appeared 
to him, with wild respect, confident that this had once 
been the retreat of the Englishman whose memory had 
so long been perpetuated in the traditions of the village. 
What was next to befall him, now that he was entirely 


HANS DUNDERMANN. 


33 


at the mercy and in the power of the spirit, he could 
not divine. He was carefully watching its movements 
as it walked around the cellar, cautiously treading the 
damp ground, until it came to a stand, and beckoned him 
to approach. Here, thon, he ascertained, was hidden the 
treasure which had so much engrossed his attention, 
and caused him so many perplexing thoughts. His 
fears now yielded to the first fiushes occasioned by the 
almost certain assurance of securing the hoarded gold. 
Thus animated by the promising prospect before him," 
his recent regrets were entirely forgotten, and he felt 
pleased and proud that he had left his bed for so 
bold and profitable an adventure. His anxious anticipa- 
tions, however, were not to be so easily gratified 
as he had at first imagined. The wealth he coveted 
was still a considerable distance under ground, but this, 
to him, appeared but a trifiing obstacle. He had often 
handled the pick and spade for a paltry price per diem ; 
and now, that a great reward was to be the issue, he could 
use them to advantage. The requisite utensils were 
soon supplied by the spirit, and Hans squandered no 
time in commencing vigorous operations. Though a 
veritable Dutchman, he entirely lost the Dutchman's 
slowness upon this memorable occasion. He relied 
more upon energetic effort for success than upon tedious 
perseverance and plodding patience, and the soft earth 


34 


RECORDS. 


was made to fly in every direction. The excitement 
of the employment soon brought back his usual com- 
plexion, and gave his plump face a greasy and shining 
appearance ; when ofif went hat and coat, and every 
other article of apparel which generally encumbers a 
Dutchman whilst at labor. He was now too intently 
engaged to pay any attention to the spirit, which made 
its exit from the cellar unnoticed and unheeded. 

For some time all continued quiet, not a sound being 
heard beyond the noise occasioned by himself. He 
was making rapid progress and congratulating himself 
upon soon reaching the expected bounty, when his 
pleasant reflections were suddenly disturbed by another 
terrible and unearthly howl, much resembling that 
which had before so greatly excited his fears. In its 
hollow re-echoes through the cellar it was rendered even 
more terrific. The spade dropped from his hand, and 
turning round in his bewilderment, he now first disco- 
vered that the spirit had abandoned him. Although 
he had previously most heartily desired it to leave him 
and permit him to find his way home again, he now re- 
garded its disappearance as ominous of ill. Alone, 
with nothing but a credulous and excited imagination for 
his guide, he was made the victim of a thousand un- 
pleasant impulses, and realized all the dread horrors of 
unrestrained fear. His face became deathly pale and 


HANS HUNHERMANN. 35 

big drops of cold perspiration stood upon it, whilst bis bair 
rose on end and bis eyes dilated and literally sparkled 
For a time, as be stood tbe impersonation of terror , 
be was unable to comprehend bis position, but with re- 
turning reason be applied himself to diligent search for 
tbe opening through which be bad entered. Every 
nook and corner was quickly examined, but no means of 
escape were discoverable. Although that awful bowl 
subsided almost simultaneously with bis dropping of 
tbe spade, be could not approach tbe spot where be bad 
been digging for tbe treasure without bearing it again. 
Had not tbe spirit told him that tbe place was 
guarded by tbe imps of tbe devil, and bow could 
be be expected to withstand them ? Had not Frede- 
rick Metzel been carried off, notwithstanding bis 
resistance, and never beard of more ? Oh, Malcben, 
this for neglecting your anxious and wholesome 
advice ! All these reflections, and ten thousand others 
no more comforting in their nature, passed rapidly 
through bis mind. The thoughts of a life-time were 
now crowded into a few of bis minutes, and a volume 
could not give a faithful transcript of tbe many marvelous 
stories that spontaneously rushed through bis brain. 
When tbe devil seemed determined to prevent Luther 
from prosecuting bis work, tbe Reformer seized an ink- 
stand and hurled it at bis bead. Though tbe missile 


36 


RECORDS. 


hard little effect upon the object at which it was aimed, 
being simply dashed to pieces against the wall, upon 
which the black marks are said still to remain, the tor- 
mentor nevertheless vanished. Hans could not deal 
thus Summarily with the great adversary, who happened 
to have no small claim upon his miserly soul, ready for 
settlement at any moment. Debtors, and especially 
those indebted to Satan, are obliged to be more courte- 
ous. He was therefore compelled to yield to an influ- 
ence which his more devotional countryman had only 
overcome with great difficulty. All ideas of obtaining 
the treasure were accordingly abandoned, and im- 
prisoned as he was, his first great care was to effect his 
release. How this was to be accomplished he knew 
not, as he more slowly and carefully re-examined the 
old walls, with lantern in hand, escaping only the 
place where he had so faithfully dug for the hidden 
wealth. That he could not think of approaching, for 
he now distinctly and unmistakeably saw a half grown 
imp seated upon the fresh earth he had thrown up, 
who was eyeing him in no very complacent manner. 
Hans has since described him as the very image of a 
picture in one of his German books, which he had 
often contemplated with feelings of melancholy dread, 
and which had equally often puzzled his brain by 
the thoughts invariably suggested to his mind whenever 


HANS HUNDERMANN. 37 

he beheld it. He never could divine the real policy of 
tolerating the existence of such hideous monsters ; and, 
perhaps more influenced by personal considerations than 
feelings of charity for mankind in general, he had fre- 
quently most heartily wished their utter extermination 
and the total annihilation of their constantly increasing 
kingdom. The puny devil before Hans’ eyes was un- 
doubtedly a legitimate ofishoot of the parent stock. He 
had a large two-pronged fork in his right hand, and in 
his left he held one end of a strong chain, whilst the 
other was fastened to his body, so that its great bulk 
had to trail upon the ground. His long tail, pointed 
like an arrow, and erected several feet above his head, 
appeared even more formidable than the fork. His pos- 
ture much resembled that of an old man, seated upon a 
low stool, his stiff legs drawn up towards his body. He 
was almost entirely covered with rough, brown hair, and 
the bristles upon his head pointed in every direction. 
There was a fiery glitter in his eyes, and the expression 
of his countenance, according to Hans’ description, 
could be handsomely counterfeited by compounding to- 
gether the faces of a grinning monkey and a fat Dutch- 
man. 

At last, fortunately, Hans Dundermann thought he 
discovered a prospect of delivery from his torments. Not 
possessing the magic power of the spiritual guide that 

4 


RECORDS. 


/ 


38 

had led him into this horrible prison, the walls could 
not he expected to part at his simple bidding, and he 
therefore wisely determined to test the virtue of more 
natural means. Seizing the spade, he made a number 
of vigorous thrusts against the substantial masonry, 
which, though it resisted his efforts for a considerable 
time, was eventually compelled to yield him a passage, 
through which he could escape. Thanks ! he was now 
once more in the open air and breathed again ! The 
devils set up another howl, as if in exultation, and se- 
veral seemed to be slyly approaching him ; but Hans, 
relying upon his nether limbs, which appeared to have 
derived strength for the occasion, hurried off with re- 
markable rapidity. Not content, however, with having 
prevented him from obtaining the treasure, the whole 
pack of imps now followed close upon his heels, crying 
his name at the top of their voices, but this only in- 
creased his speed the more. No obstacle seemed a hin- 
drance to him. Dark as it was, he scaled the rocks, 
and stones, and stumps, in his leaps, as on he flew, 
leaving those in pursuit far behind. There was no 
manifestation of the tardy Dutchman in that chase, as 
he pursued his course for miles, not knowing whither it 
led and feeling little inclination to pause and consider. 
"When, at last, he came to a stand, lo ! the veritable 
spirit which had enticed him into the wood stood at 


r 


HANS DUNDERMANN. 39 

his side and was calmly gazing upon him. Hans shut 
his eyes, hut it was still there. Drawing in his breath, 
he bolted in another direction with a speed that out- 
distanced even this supernatural vision, but led him far 
from his home. Hatless and coatless, he eventually 
seated himself upon the earth, determined to await the 
approach of day. Though he knew not in what locality 
he was, nor how, lost in the wood, he should find the 
village again, he was yet consoled by the reflection that 
he was free from the clutches of satan and his imps. 
The terrors of Karl Reiser’s son had been nothing in 
comparison to those he had endured. 

When morning dawned, — and never had Hans Dun- 
dermann more welcomed the approach of day, — ^he be- 
took himself to the difficult task of searching for his 
home. His venerable housekeeper had been thrown 
into great consternation upon discovering his absence. 
Not knowing whither he had gone, or what had become 
of him, her fears at once made her conclude that he had 
shared the sad fate of Frederick Metzel, and been car- 
ried off by the spirit during the night, as a terrible pun- 
ishment fordaaving neglected to meet it as he had been 
requested. She now reproached herself for having ob- 
truded her advice upon him, but to make amends, she 
told the matter to her neighbors, and search was imme- 
diately commenced for the lost. He was not discovered 


40 KECORDS. 

until tlie succeeding day, and wlien brouglit to Hs resi- 
dence to tlie great delight of Malchen, gave a narration 
of his adventures which alike astonished the credulous 
and amused the doubting. 

Those who heard it at once determined to investigate 
the matter, and , if possible, obtain the treasure and make 
a general distribution of it amongst themselves. Hans 
now had the entire neighborhood at his heels, many fully 
believing his entire tale and looking anxiously for a por- 
tion of the spoils; others following from sheer impulse, 
not knowing what to think or say; whilst others still 
were led on by curiosity to see the end of what they 
simply believed to be a foolish vagary of a distempered 
brain. He was but a sorry guide, however, and after 
vainly searching for the old building to which he had 
been led by the spirit, he gave it as his settled convic- 
tion that the imps must have removed it, leaving no 
trace behind that it had once existed, lest they might 
experience too much difficulty in preserving the wealth 
it contained. The conclusion was a wise one, and if it 
taught nothing more, it at least illustrated the remark 
of a learned Grenoese, that ‘^miser’s worship no God but 
money, and will deny even the very faith they profess 
rather than fail in schemes to augment their treasures.^^ 
However faithful servants of satan they may be, he 


HANS HUNDERMANN. 


41 


knows that they would betray even him to gratify their 
desire, and understands them too well not to place his 
possessions beyond their wily clutches, in which he is 
certainly more judicious than many mortals. 

' T. D. 


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HEM ABKS. 


The succeeding essay was read before the Association, and 
appears, from the following prefatory remarks, to have been 
the production of one of its committees. — ^E ditoe. 

“ Your committee, simply from the want of a new theme, 
have been compelled, even at the hazard of proving tedious, 
to confine themselves to an old one. The many extravagancies 
daily exhibited by those around us might perhaps afford more 
matter for ridicule than admonition, but few are willing that 
their follies should be made the means of amusing others, 
whilst none will object to a little kind advice, though he be de- 
termined not to heed it. We therefore concluded that the latter 
mode of treating our subject, if the most stupid, would still 
possess the merit of being the least annoying. Then, too, stu- 
pidity having become a common quality, in which each is pri- 
vileged to deal, a sacred right not to be denied without closing 
the mouths of more than nine-tenths of the world, our dullness 
can be no trespass and consequently needs no apology.” 

. . (43) 


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s- 't: 


AN ESSAY. 


THE WISDOM or PRESERVING MODERATION IN OUR 
WISHES. 


“ Life runs best on little : nature’s store 
Can make all happy that will use their power.” 

In the extended range of our wishes and their diversi- 
fied character^ the reflective man will recognise one of 
the greatest sources of human misery. The many desires 
which impel us affect alike the mind and heart, fre- 
quently disturbing the healthy repose of the one, and 
rendering the other cold and selfish. The illusory na- 
ture of life and its schemes, and the changing influ- 
ences which ever surround us, seldom permit us to 
attain the most moderate aspirations of our youth. 
Through the lively impetus constantly given - to the 
imagination during that period of life, we are prone to 
devise certain plans and arrange magnificent schemes to 
accomplish our desires ; yet the weight of years steals 
upon us gradually, until we look upon the past hut as a 
( 45 )' 


\ 


46 


RECORDS. 


long chain of circumstances, and our present life and 
condition as its result. One by one our determinations, 
however long and fervently cherished, pass away unreal- 
ized ; whilst our sanguine wishes, with their ardor per- 
haps somewhat abated through the influence of experi- 
ence and the cool meditations of riper age, still remain 
ungratified. He who had contrived and contemplated 
schemes to amass wealth, and then retire to repose amid 
the comforts and luxuries of the world, may linger out 
a life of toil and poverty in some humble hamlet ; he 
who had longed to ascend the steeps of science and ga- 
ther in abundance its noble treasures, may feel the ad- 
monishing wrinkles upon his brow even before he has 
made one permanent acquisition ; and he who had en- 
couraged dreams of ambition, and courted the uncertain 
plaudits of fame, may die at last forgotten and un- 
known. 

Moderation in our wishes is as rarely witnessed as 
their realization. It was an argument with the Cynics 
that absence of all want was the natural condition of the 
Gods, and therefore he who stood in need of but few 
things most resembled them. The remark ascribed to 
Taxilles is admirable and philosophic, ^^What occa- 
sion is there, Alexander, that you and I must needs 
quarrel and fight ; since you neither came to rob us of 
our water nor of our food, which are the only two things 


AN ESSAY. 


47 


that men in their wits think worth contending for 1 ” 
The idea of the Cynics is rarely exemplified in human 
life, and the moderate desires expressed by Taxilles 
equally seldom infuse into men the modest wishes they 
suggest to our minds. St. Cyprian, and others before 
and after him, distributed their possessions amongst 
their fellows, reducing themselves to poverty. If all 
cannot admire the wisdom of their action, certainly 
none can find anything in their motives to condemn. 
They who have thus mastered their selfishness and ava- 
rice, two vices sufficiently powerful to destroy many of 
the nobler virtues, have obtained a command over them- 
selves more desirable than wealth or distinction. They 
have conquered impulses whose end not unfrequently is 
agony of mind and destruction to all the sensibilities of 
the soul; they have subjected their wishes and tamed 
their desires to encounter the vicissitudes of life with 
philosophic calmness. 

The present pleasure may pass away into oblivion, or 
it may leave a permanent sting behind ; and yet it is 
for this that extravagant wishes leap into being and ex- 
pand to the limit of possibility, or to the extent of our 
comprehension. The diviner philosophy which teaches 
us the vanity of our desires, and the vexation of spirit 
attending even their full gratification, is neglected until 
forced upon us by the irresistable teachings of experience. 


48 


RECORDS. 


The most excellent lessons of virtue are treated with 
indifference to further imposing schemes for riches, for 
fame, or for power ; yet the one is not attended by peace 
of mind, the other brings no quiet comfort to the soul, 
and the third fails to realize happiness and contentment. 
The flatteries of friends and sycophants which follow 
you in each, only fill your face with frowns and your 
heart with loathing and disgust. The wealth of Crassus, 
the Rich, brought him neither contentment nor protec- 
tion; the distinction of Pompey could not brook the 
rising glory of his great rival, and but provoked his 
malice and his envy; the power of Caesar only increased 
his ambition, which continued to prey upon his soul and 
in his longings for the crown it became his own avenger; 
and the flatterers of Canute but made him feel his in- 
significance and aroused his contempt. 

The wish for distinction and renown, however, may 
not only be blameless in itself, but when restrained 
within proper bounds, highly honorable. There is a 
medium between ambition and a total neglect of repu- 
tation as hard distinctly to define as it is difficult to 
practice. Few have known how to follow it, and many 
whose wishes were at first confined to the rule of a town, 
afterwards aspired to empire. History even refuses to 
agree with Cicero in according to Caesar the credit of 
having, at the beginning of his career, devised and 


AN ESSAY. 


49 


pursued a definite plan to subvert the Koman Common- 
wealth and elevate himself to the tyranny. None would 
add to the infamy of Marius or Sylla by supposing that 
the first aspirations of either were for absolute power. 
When it is remembered how difficult it is to be restrained 
within this medium, it will not appear strange that so 
many should have overstepped it, often to the great 
injury of themselves and more . frequently still to the 
great affliction of the people. If our wishes be prompted 
by motives to promote the public good, they may justly 
acquire the title of patriotism ; and when, in addition, 
they are so wholly under our control as to enable us to 
assume the command to-day and renounce it to-morrow 
should the interests of the country require it, we are 
eminently qualified for every sphere or position in the 
Republic. Frederick, the Elector of Saxony, refused 
the crown under the impression that an Emperor more 
powerful than himself was needed to preserve Germany; 
and the humble Cincinnatus found more repose and 
pleasure in the cultivation of his little fields than in the 
exercise of power or the trappings of wealth. Unlike 
the treacherous decemviri, when the duties of his high 
positions had been performed, he meekly resigned them 
again to seek the approving smiles of his Attillia and 
the content of his humble home. These are examples 
with which history does not abound, and whatever 
5 


50 


RECORDS. 


credit we may. accord *to their deeds of worth and valor, 
we yet see more to admire in their generous humility 
and the noble command they constantly reserved over 
themselves. 

It is a small matter to wish for virtue, yet a more 
worthy desire never entered the mind of man. Virtue 
is the highest of all treasures, and however rarely it 
may he seen, is neither beyond the reach of any noi\ 
above his comprehension. The high and low, the prince 
and the peasant, are alike possessed with the power of 
attaining it^ All the greater excellencies of nature are 
free and within universal reach. It is the remark of an 
old philosopher, that ^^many people, without having 
their reason improved by study, live nevertheless in a 
manner conformable to the dictates of right reason/' 
and Montagne observes that the life of the peasant is 
frequently more agreeable to philosophy than that of the 
philosopher himself. This wish is none the less en- 
nobling because its answer is within universal reach. 
It is even more rarely realized than desires for wealth 
or power, and is infinitely preferable to either when at- 
tained. There is nothing in . nature more useful, for 
what evils does it not avert ? It renders us impregnable 
to the stealthy encroachments of vice ; relieves us of all 
selfishness, guile, and hypocrisy; robs us of all malice. 


AN ESSAY. 51 

deceit, and treacliery ; frees us from the gnawings of 
envy, the miseries of hate, and the slavery of passion ; 
delivers us frqm the bondage of avarice, ambition, and 
the remorse which so frequently attends them ; and fits us 
not only to think of but to do whatsoever things are 
true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are 
just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are 
lovely, whatsoever things are of good report/' It is no 
less permanent than it is useful. We scarcely know 
which most to admipe, the cool indifference of Phalereus, 
or the tribute which he pays to the durable nature of 
virtue, in his reply, when told that the Athenian people 
had thrown down and destroyed his statues : Well, but 
they cannot overturn that virtue for the sake of which 
they were erected." It is a noble companion for every 
sphere of life, teaching us how to wear, with just humility, 
the honors we may acquire, and how to submit, with 
becoming dignity, to the reverses of fortune, the treachery 
of friends, and the persecution of enemies. Under its 
guidance, the world is seen in its true character, and our 
duties towards it discharged with forbearance and charity. 
Without it, none can be truly great nor truly happy. 
With it, all may obtain a just share of human happiness 
and contentment, and each secure for himself the noble 
tribute which history has paid to Epaminondas, a higher 


53 


RECORDS. 


eulogy ttan ever yet was acquired througli the realization 
of the grandest schemes for wealth or glory : He was 
A MAN ADORNED WITH EVERY VIRTUE, AND STAINED 
BY NO VICE.” 


EXPLANATORY 



“ Good men live twice : it donbleth every hour 
To look with joy on that which passed before.” 

0 

The author of the following paper, having himself wi 
nessed and heard what he has attempted to detail, merely 
designed to attract attention to a rich resource of pleasure in- 
herent in every good man. To him who has carefuUy kept him- 
self free from dishonor, and whose life has never been marred 
by the stains of vice, there is nothing so happily adapted to be- 
guile the hours of solitude as reflections upon the past. Seneca 
calls the “ unmoved tranquility of a happy mind, a great re- 
ward.” He who has so lived as to obtain it, whatever his pre- 
sent condition, may always find in his own thoughts the p\irest 
enjoyment, perhaps realizing in this healthful exercise of the 
resources within him, that there is much more of reality than 
fancy in what lamblicus has said : “We must take this as a cer- 
tain truth, that nothing properly evil shall happen to a good 
man, either in this life, or after it.” 

M. S G. 

( 53 ) 


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THE SICK MOTHER. 


I HAVE never sat by the sick-bed of a mother without 
finding gradually stealing over me a deeply melancholy 
and impressive feeling. Nature has so constituted the 
human mind as to render it susceptible of an'^ infinite 
variety of emotions, and made it so expansive in its grasp 
as to enable it to contemplate everything within the 
boundless universe. However finite it may be, there is 
nothing of which it cannot think; and although there 
are many things which it fails to understand, they all 
inspire some feeling or awaken some emotion within the 
invisible recesses of our nature. The many truths of 
which we know, and the countless beauties mirrored be- 
fore our eyes by the imagination dwelling upon uncer- 
tainties and doubtful probabilities, often give rise to a 
variety of sensations so powerful as to hold us spell- 
bound: The deep springs of the heart, frequently hid- 
den to our comprehension, are ever fiowing for our en- 
joyment. Of this I was recently reminded, in a very 

( 55 ) 


/ 

56 RECORDS, 

impressive manner, by being ushered into the presence 
of a mother, who had, for three successive years, been 
confined to a sick-bed. The information of her sore 
afiliction suggested a train of thought, and prompted a 
number of reflections, the recollection of which will for- 
ever abide fresh in my memory. She was yet young, 
and notwithstanding her many trials, exhibited a vigor 
of mind and a freshness of heart seldom discovered in 
the most healthy and buoyant. The knowledge of her 
prostration for years, in the prime of her life, and when 
possessed of all the impulsive desires and sanguine ex- 
pectations common to those of her age, saddened me to 
sickness as I flrst entered her apartment ; but upon dis- 
covering her genuine animation, her beauty of heart 
and sprightliness of mind, my feeliqgs alternately changed 
from sadness to surprise, from surprise to veneration. 
How many pleasures, thought I, had I enjoyed during 
Ithe past three years ! How had I, watching the chang- 
ing seasons, relished the many delightful things each of 
them had brought forth ! In the mellow sunlight of 
the morning, I had drank in the beauties of the earth; 
and in the sweet twilight of the evening, I had reaped 
the richest bounties it afforded. I had daily sported 
with my friends, many of whom had never felt ‘a wish 
unanswered, yet still remained unsatisfied ; I had played 
alike with the young and old with an intensity of inte- 


THE SICK MOTHER. 


57 


rest that touched every chord of the heart ; and I had 
felt the ecstacy of a variety of joys, whilst the vigor of 
Uninterrupted health hut spread out before me all that 
heart could wish, or soul desire. There were our glo- 
rious winter parties, where kindness, friendship, and 
love, ministered to our wishes ; gleeful rides over the 
silvery snow, cozily muffled in furs, and almost buried 
in robes, our exuberant hilarity rising high above the 
jingling music of the bells; summer meetings beneath 
the shady branches of the willow, in the downy mea- 
dow ; and moonlight strolls with cherished companions 
all around us, and loved ones leaning tenderly on our 
arms. We had our social enjoyments in all their diver- 
sified characters; our many exhibitions of the noblest 
intellect fraught with the golden treasures of study ; our 
seasonable round of vivifying concerts by the highest 
talent in the wide world ; our splendid and attractive 
operas, with all the more and less refined amusements 
which the age required to make up the sum total of this 
never satisfied and insatiable human life. Whether in 
door or out, we found all that could be desired to make 
existence pleasing, and attach us the more firmly to it ; yet 
here was one who had none, or few of these things. 
Chained down within the narrow compass of her bed, 
her ill destiny had denied to her the pleasures of the 
world without. How could she endure it ? Would not 


t 


58 RECORDS. 

her heart wither for want of food, and her mind perish 
for lack of stimulants ? Nothing in the least approach- 
ing to this was perceptible. She ever seemed the happy 
spirit that could rise above the afflictions of fate, and 
over which no misfortune could cast a cloud of despair. 

In conversation, she spoke of the world with a know- 
ledge and a heart that would have persuaded you she 
constantly moved with the busiest portion of it. She 
was fully aware of the condition and employments of 
her friends, enjoying their sports and ^musements as 
much, apparently, as though she was participating in 
them ; and often, with her own delicate hands, she had 
prepared some trifling and expressive thing, which told 
how much she wished their happiness. There was no 
complaint in her, nor could you force repining regrets 
upon her. Her answers to your queries were always the 
same in sweetness and resignation, and such as might 
almost have led you to think she preferred her condition 
to one of health, and its attendant pleasures. It is true, 
she did not conceal that, at first, her situation seemed 
indeed terrible to herself, yet principally from one 
cause, which never ceased more or less to trouble her. 
She had a young and devoted husband, and she regretted 
more for his sake than her own, her incapacity to mingle 
in the social spheres of life, and thus afford him enjoy- 
ments which were denied him in her condition. Her 


THE SICK MOTHER. 


59 


selfishness, if she ever had any, was changed from her- 
self and directed towards him, upon whom she would 
have conferred every merit or good quality she pos- 
sessed, had she had the power, and many more, if pos- 
sible, and regarded the task the most delightful she had 
ever performed. His very desires and aims of life had 
become her’s, and I believe she would have suffered any 
personal inconvenience or sacrifice to have gratified him 
in them all ; his troubles and vexations, by some strange 
and inexplicable influence of sympathy, she had invari- 
ably succeeded in removing from his mind, and placing 
in their stead a new and more exalted vigor : in truth, 
he had never felt a regret, a pang, a trial, however tri- 
fling, in which she had not participated, and which, by, 
some mysterious balm distilled by her own sympathetic 
heart, she had not contributed to remove or obliterate. 
If, however, she shared so much in his sorrows, she par- 
took none the less of his joys. His happiness was her 
own; his successes and his triumphs were her’s ; and the 
just rewards of his ceaseless labors, deservedly eleva- 
ting him in public esteem, were even more gratifying to 
her than to himself. In his honorable elevation, she 
beheld her personal advancement, and in the brightness 
of his reputation, she felt additions to her own. When 
his aspirations had been realized, she had experienced a 
gratification superior to his, and when he had attained a 


60 


RECORDS. 


point throi^li assiduous effort, tlie acquisition afforded 
mutual pleasure. Thus entering into his very exist- 
ence, she deplored her affliction more from a desire to 
promote his happiness than from any wish or anxiety for 
personal gratification and enjoyment. 

The apartment occupied by her was neatly fitted up 
and arranged with a view of making her situation as 
comfortable as possible, and evidences were not wanting 
of the generous sympathies of her friends. Whatever 
was supposed capable of affording her a moment’s cheer- 
ful amusement, or of lessening the tedium of her con- 
stant confinement, was supplied ; and the innumerable 
attentions bestowed upon her bore ample testimony of 
the esteem in which she was held. Her acquaintances 
seemed really to be vieing with each other who could 
do most to attest the good wishes entertained in her be- 
half, and the many expedients invented to gratify her, 
well exhibited the magnanimous ingenuity and skill of 
their authors. How highly did she appreciate this kind- 
ness, and how enthusiastically did she speak of it ! To 
hear her, was to forget herafflictions, and partake of her 
grateful and joyous feelings. She had often exclaimed, 
in the fullness of her heart, that she could wish for no 
more 3 and indeed, turn where you would, you could 
see nothing but tokens of sympathy and love, which the 
stricken soul alone can fully know how to cherish. 


THE SICK MOTHER. -61 

Then, too, she had a little bright-eyed, prattling boy, 
the best and happiest in the world, she would say. With 
him she would play for hours together, and pet him with 
tender caresses, attesting the power of her motherly 
affections, and evincing how much she treasured him. 
In his gleeful gambols, she would watch him with inef- 
fable fondness, and his infantile freaks elicited emotions 
which she Would not have bartered for the world. Next 
to her husband, her boy was her greatest earthly idol, 
and a stay which, though tender, made life, however 
afflicted, a boon that filled her heart with gratitude. 

Whilst seated in her apartment, in conversation with • 
her, her husband, with whom I had spent many of my 
youthful days, and once taken a long excursion through 
several provinces, entered, without observing* me, and, 
walking to the bedside of his wife, he tenderly embraced 
her, and then sat silently down before her. I fancied I 
saw a tear glistening in his eye, and I never was more 
moved to pity. How much I had been mistaken, and 
how misdirected had been my compassion, I was pleased 
to ascertain soon after. As I was upon the point of 
addressing him,,she cast a look upon him so sweetly soft 
and gentle, that, once seen, it could never be forgotten, 
and smilingly said, 

Come, Charles, be more cheerful and communicative. 

Let me know what has been astir within the past few 
fi 


63 


RECORDS. 


hours since your return. You certainly do not appear 
to be displeased, and yet you are not disposed to be 
talkative.^^ 

Nothing has in the least ruffled my temper, I assure 
you. I am as well contented with myself and the world 
now as ever, and would not so belie the home of my 
friend as to cause a supposition that my visit to him had 
rendered me dull and gloomy.^^ 

What, then, makes you so silent ? I have noticed 
your quiet moments, at times, heretofore, without being 
able to divine their cause, and you have never been 
pleased to make it known.^' 

“ That was because I thought your own heart knew 
it, and felt it ; but as I am in the mood, I shall endeavor 
to tell you. You are well aware that there are periods 
when the heart speaks more in silence than the tongue 
could possibly express-^when a momentary pause reveals 
more than the talk of a day could unfold. I know you 
have sometimes found your feelings too powerful for 
utterance, and in silent thought permitted them partially 
to subside before you ventured to speak and break the 
spell that enchained you. Nature has so constituted 
those capable of genuine love, that, whilst feeling the 
influence of so sacred an affection, their ecstacy should 
not be disturbed even by the pleasures of conversation. 
The strength of this passion, at times, overpowers every 


THE SICK MOTHER. 


63 


other impulse ; and though it may then enforce silence, 
it only does so to enable us to enjoy the more the rich 
treasures of our own hearts. Depend upon it, such 
moments wear the touches of angels, and furnish us with 
the sublimest idea of the enjoyments of heaven that can 
be realized in the present life. Their recurrence cannot 
come too often, nor can they be retained too long, when 
present, for they are our choicest blessings.^^ 

If ever, thought I, a wife had ‘been answered to her 
heart’s full satisfaction, this sick and helpless one was 
in the present instance. It was now her turn to become 
silent, and changing her position, I obtained a full view 
of her animated countenance, from which I inferred 
that the words of her husband had penetrated into her 
soul to be secretly treasured there. My position had 
already become too embarrassing to allow me to remain 
silent any longer; so, rising from my seat, I advanced 
towards him, and was about offering an apology, but he 
overwhelmed me with joyful greetings. Upon his pressing 
invitation, I was prevailed upon to remain with him and 
his family until the succeeding day, and thus I was 
favored with ample opportunities to witness the disposition 
of the sick mother, and enjoy her conversations. For 
this, though I never much liked a sick room, I afterwards 
became thankful ; for I felt that I had, in rehearsing 
the many exploits I had had with her husband^ opened 


64 


RECORDS. 


new sources for her enjoyment, whilst I likewise learnt 
a lesson of the human heart which I can never fail to 
hold in remembrance. Upon one occasion, in entering 
her apartment, I found her affectionately playing with 
her boy, and remarked upon the pleasure she must 
experience in the possession of so fine a plaything. 

“ Indeed, sir,’^ said she, I have my amusement with 
him. Day after day I thus while away many an hour, 
which might otherwise be rendered dull and tedious, so 
pleasantly that I scarcely note its passage.^^ 

Without him,^^ remarked I, desirous of ascertaining 
how so long a period of confinement could be endured, 
time would, no doubt, hang heavily upon you, and 
your sources of comfort and pleasure be much diminished?^^ 
Since I have become accustomed to the many 
gratifications he has brought me, I can scarcely endure 
his absence for a single day. Though he is not my only 
source of comfort and amusement, to lose him would be 
a most terrible affliction*’^ 

How,” continued I, putting the question direct, 
could you tolerate this long confinement, and yet retain 
your youthful glee ? I should long since have perished 
from utter despondency.” 

It was not so easily done,” was her answer, whilst a 
pleasant smile lighted up her countenance, yet I made 
every effort to maintain my spirits, and with the kind 


65 


THE SICK MOTHER, 
assistance of all around me, I happily succeeded/^ After 
speaking of the many kindnesses of her friends, and the 
constant devotion of her husband, in so animating a 
manner that I could not help fully sharing in her feelings, 
she continued : If I cannot move with the busy world, 
I constantly hear of it, and often think of it. To 
appreciate and feel its pleasures, it is not always necessary 
that we should actively participate in them. The heart 
and mind are the seats of true enjoyment, and the 
occurrences and events of busy life can only be pleasing 
as they harmonize with the one or the other, whatever 
may be your condition. There is no joy, unless you 
reach them by the right direction, and no pain, unless 
you approach them wrongly. The measure of happiness 
depends more upon the manner in which they are made 
to move, than upon external causes. They are likewise 
mighty sources of comfort and amusement within 
themselves. I had lived happily for a number of years, 
partaking of all the enjoyments my tastes suggested, or 
opportunity presented ; and since confined in this room, 
I have again and again lived over my former life. Every 
incident has been reviewed, even from my infancy to the 
present hour. This retrospective life, if I may so 
denominate it, is very singular, and withal, very pleasing. 
The pure pleasure of a good action is often little 
experienced whilst you are performing it, but felt most 
6 ^ 


66 


RECORDS. 


keenly after it lias been done. At times an occurrence 
makes you tremble with affright whilst beholding it, and 
when your momentary terror has subsided, its ridiculous 
nature convulses you with laughter. I have known men 
to fret, and scold, and swear, for entire days at the 
inconveniences that beset them, and when safely over 
their difficulties, sit down and detail them again and 
again with the most heartfelt merriment. I remember 
having once encountered a traveller, who was so provoked 
at the miserable condition of the road, and the cold 
winter weather, as very audibly to wish the company in 
a much warmer locality more than fifty times during the 
slow journey; yet, a few days after, I met him comfortably 
seated before a cheerful fire with a friend, whilst tears 
of unrestrained laughter rolled down his cheeks, as he 
rehearsed this part of his rough experience. Such are 
the effects of a combination of the past and the present 
upon the mind, and so is it with this retrospective life. 
That which caused pleasure once, or made you joyful 
and merry, will always renew the like emotions whenever 
you think of it; that which truly enlisted the feelings 
of the heart at one time, will never fail to do so again 
whenever you ponder upon it ; that which in any way 
seriously affected you once, will continue to do so as often 
as it may be brought to your remembrance; and the 
recollection even of many of those things which you would 


THE SICK MOTHER. 67 

fain liave averted or avoided, may prove objects of 
gratification. Think of this, if you please, -and by 
directing your attention more studiously and carefully 
upon the past, experiment for yourself, and you will find 
that the souhs impressions are not perishable. Examine 
the hours gone by, and you will discover for your future 
old age beauties which your present youth cannot fully 
comprehend or justly appreciate, and sources of enjoy- 
ment scarcely known to you now. Nature has so ordained, 
and most charitably and wisely, that each day passed in 
active, vigorous youth, should provide for the quiet 
amusements of age — that the pleasures of one period of 
life should happily be productive of delights for the 
other, instead of being felt but for the moment and then 
forgotten forever.” 

No doubt, madam,” remarked I, you are very correct 
in what you have said; but to be compelled by necessity, 
at an age like yours, just properly adapted for active 
participation in the affairs and pleasures of life, to resort 
to such means of enjoyment, can scarcely be supposed 
to place you in so happy a condition as that which you 
have assigned to old age.” 

^^You may, perhaps,” continued she, “be partly 
right, but you are much more wrong. Short, compara- 
tively, as has been my life, it has furnished material 
enough for an age of thought, and by using it I have 


68 


RECORDS. 


again and again felt the pleasures of the soul. Then, 
too, this was not a dream life, the idle vapors of which 
could be dispelled by a sudden transition to reality, for 
there was nothing in it that had not, at one time, been 
really seen and felt. It was rather a life of quiet and 
happy reflection. It is not a dream nor delusion to wan- 
der back, by the marvellous power of thought, and take 
your accustomed place once more at the social board of a 
loved and peaceful home, and have again renewed within 
you the feelings of youth. It so resembles the substantial 
truth t^t we can scarcely discern a difference, ahd 
revives sympathies so pleasing that we involuntarily desire 
their constant presence. The spirit ever retains its hold 
upon the past, and the delightful hours of childhood, 
when we drank in the many joys of our young and 
unruflied life, come back again to awaken the same 
emotions that animated us then. The affections once 
more- leap into young and untainted existence, and we 
feel as guilelessly happy and buoyant as in youth. No 
occurrence fails to re-enlist our attention, but each trifling 
incident contributes its just portion to our pleasure. How 
much we doat upon these things, and how fondly we 
cherish them ! There,^^ directing my attention to a neat 
little article, lies a trifling relic of one with whom I 
had spent many of my days in girlish companionship. 
She no more walks the earth, for she sank quietly and 


69 


THE SICK MOTHER, 
peacefully into the grave, just as she was budding into 
beautiful womanhood. She had done the work appointed 
unto her, and Death gathered her to himself; but, 
though she is buried, I never gaze upon that small trinket 
without calling up again her sweet image from its solemn 
resting place to experience once more, perhaps more 
vigorously than ever, the many pleasures we had enjoyed 
together. Here,^' lifting up her hand, <^is a token of 
friendship which I need but gaze upon to revive a variety 
of renjembrances so pleasing that I would not exchange 
them for the most valuable treasure. How well do I 
remember the day, the very hour, though sad it may have 
been, when this tiny ring first encircled my finger ! It 
was an hour of parting between loving friends, yet not 
an hour in which they forgot each other. Though far 
away, she still remembers me as ardently as I retain my 
recollections of her, and the many happy moments we 
spent together. Happily, however, it needs not these 
n^aterial trifles to wrest from oblivion the incidents of 
our lives. One after another we can breathe them into 
existence as often as we will, through the powers upon 
which they have made an enduring impression, and as 
they re-appear before us, the hallowed shadows of 
substances once enjoyed, we become enchanted with their 
loveliness. There is a beauty in this review of life, in 
thus living over again the years gone by, that affords 
the richest comfort to the soul.^^ 


70 RECORDS. 

“ Is it then/^ queried I, by thus asking pleasures 
of an active and bappy past, that you have maintained 
your freshness of mind and brilliancy of spirits ? In 
another, the same things would have caused melancholy 
and desponding regrets, by exhibiting in contrast a 
hopeless and pleasureless future.” 

My future,” she pleasantly replied, is not hope- 
less, but were it even so, the consequences could not be so 
sad ; neither will it ever be more void of amusement 
than the present, which is full of enjoyment. It is an ^ 
old Spanish maxim, well suited to the temper of the 
Spaniard, that ^he who loseth wealth, loseth much ; he 
who loseth a friend, loseth more; but he who loseth his 
spirits, loseth all.^ With so fatal a loss, the mind sinks 
deep into despair, and the heart finds nothing to cheer 
it. Our natural organization, however, is happily 
provided with guards and barriers against it, and to 
those who are not permitted to mingle in society, this 
retrospective life is the best and noblest of them all. 
There is no reliable middle course in affliction, and if 
you guard against the pressure of unfavorable circum- 
stances, you not merely avoid the dangers of despon- 
dency, but also increase your capacities for enjoyment. 
Your heart will mellow and expand by sickness, and 
whatever coldness or indifference characterized it, will 
yield before the power of sympathy. The ill in your 


THE SICK MOTHER. 


71 


nature will be imperceptibly destroyed, and the good 
remain standing alone. Where before you were quick 
to censure, you will manifest generous forbearance, and 
even positive injuries will be forgotten and forgiven. 
How well is this state and condition adapted fora review 
of the past ! Whilst it causes you to extend friendship 
to those whom you hated, it attaches you so closely to 
those whom you loved that your very being seems to 
become blended with theirs. In your adoration of 
them, their lives are made part of your own, and though 
they may not always claim an interest so intense, they 
afford equal enjoyment. You ponder upon their adven- 
tures, contrasting them with your own, and each separate 
incident affords new matter for the employment of your 
thoughts. If, then, I have my own life spread out 
before me, and the lives of those who are nearest and 
dearest to me, have I not sources of enjoyment sufficient 
to do much more than maintain my present spirits and 
buoyancy.’' 

Thus she continued ever finding something to interest 
her mind, and bring pleasure to her lively affections; 
whilst I felt pleased with this happy manifestation of 
her well-trained disposition, and found in it much to 
instruct. Here, was one whom I had regarded as a fit 
object for compassion, enjoying herself more than the 
vast mass of humanity much better situated for enjoy- 


I 


73 


RECORDS. 


ment. All this, too, by properly guarding and guiding 
her thoughts. Here was a commentary on human happi- 
ness, showing how well we are adapted for pleasure, and 
what sources of comfort we may be of ourselves. The 
deep and unseen springs of sensibility and joy within 
us, thus made to gush forth at our will, augur a higher 
and sublimer destiny. The crude philosopher, or the 
still cruder sceptic, may doubt and deny, but still they 
will continue to direct him to the imperishable testimonies 
of immortality. It is not within us to believe, that the 
power which dictates and controls our thoughts and our 
impulses, so tender that every impression made upon it 
even in infancy retains its hold until the grave closes 
over us, is destined to be forever obliterated. Even 
in life, it gives us evidences of eternity. Should we 
live for countless ages, though the particles composing 
our bodies might continually yield to decay and be 
replaced by 'others, its own identity would be maintained, 
nor could we erase from it the impressions of our child- 
hood. No change in life can destroy it, or move it from 
its directing and controlling sphere. Is it, then, merely 
the unsatisfying mystery of an invisible element, endowed 
with the capacity of preserving and summoning before us 
the shadows of past beauties, though doomed itself to 
perish? Is it only a fleeting, flickering ray, simply 
given to illumine our physical existence, whose last flash 


THE SICK MOTHER. 


73 


shall be forever extinguished when the nature to which 
it was joined sinks before the rough contacts of earth, or 
slowly dies out cf its own infirmities? Happily, it 
awakens sweeter thoughts, and inspires higher hopes. 
Its brightness is not like the passing lustre of the moon- 
beam, receding behind the first murky cloud that floats 
across its path, but may be made to shine only the more 
brilliantly through the surrounding darkness. With 
her, whose afliictions and pleasures I have faintly 
described, it was not a mere visionary creature, conjured 
up by powerful imagery, and clothed with the devices 
of a fine fancy) yet compelled to fall before the first 
truthful reality it encountered. Following out its mission 
in truth, it is our faithful companion and guide through 
life; and who shall deny it another sphere of nobler 
existence, where it may never cease to feast upon the 
untold loveliness of creation, and forever dwell upon the 
past, reviewing its own good deeds with unabating grati- 
tude to its author, and unending happiness to itself. 


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AN ANONYMOUS WRITINO, 

WHICH HAD SERVED AS AN ENVELOPE TO THE FOL- 
LOWING PAPER. 


The manuscript enclosed was found upon the desk of the Sec- 
retary and read by permission. The author, perhaps to his 
own credit, cautiously withheld his name. Though many in- 
quiries were made without success, I could not avoid ascribing 
its paternity to a young rogue near me, who appeared greatly 
pleased with it ; and after the reading, desired the Junto to 
take the labor of reducing the practice of lying to a science 
under its immediate supervision and protection. -This impru- 
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difficulties. It was looked upon as a very slanderous reflec- 
tion, and the poor fellow was so roughly handled that he not 
only gladly withdrew it, but himself also, perhaps a little wiser 
than he had been before. His difficulties no doubt impressed 
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taught him that no matter how much men may be given to evil 
habits, they are averse to having their faults paraded before 
their own eyes as well as to seeing them exposed to the gaze 
of others. They may be addicted to a disgraceful practice, 
yet ask them to avow and openly protect it, and they will raise 
such a terrible clatter about your ears that you are fain to 
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THE 


EXCELLENCIES OF LYINQ. 


*‘The art of silence and of -well-term’d speech.” OU) Poet. 

Op the many practices to which our people are addicted, 
and which exhibit their progress towards the higher 
walks of civilization, there is none more prominent 
than the habit of lying. Celius wrote of Pompey, he 
is wont to think one thing and speak another and we 
may say, that amongst us, it has almost become difl&cult 
to decide, whether we act upon the principle that language 
was invented to express our thoughts, or simply for the 
purpose of enabling us to conceal them. 

I have an old friend who, adding to a mind accustomed 
to accurate observation, more than fifty years of experi- 
ence, frequently remarks that he has never yet had half 
a dozen conversations with any person, without detecting 
( 77 ) 7 * 


78 


BECORDS. 


a falsehood.* It is well known that in onr day it is 
scarcely possible to bargain even with a saint, without 
discovering him a liar; and I verily believe that had all 
who ever indulged this habit been treated like Ananias 
and his spouse, the world would long since have been 
depopulated. Fortunately, none are now so summarily 
punished, or there would be a terrible falling down 
and giving up of the ghost.^^ For this generous forbear- 
ance, we may, perhaps, be indebted to the superiority 
which we have acquired over these two rude victims. 
We have certainly improved somewhat upon their 
example, yet it must be owned that 9ur progress in this 
habit has not been commensurate with that made in the 
other improvements of the age. Some of the fabrications 
of the Carthaginians and old Assyrians, noted for their 
proficiency in this particular, were greatly superior to 
any encountered in the present day. We have lost the 
ancient spirit, which, it is feared, can only be revived by 
re-enacting some of the ancient laws. For instance, in 


[* Note . — ^The editor was at first inclined to Iteliere that this old man could 
never have been within the circle of good society, hut the developments of 
the times have removed this uncharitable opinion. When one half, or more, 
of the independent lay people of this country, together with perhaps ono- 
third of the ministers of the Gospel, (for such is the general estimate,) can 
voluntarily connect themselves with a secret political organization, one of 
whose principles is universally felt to he the worst species of lying, it may 
not bo long before it will be extremely dif&cxilt to find a man of real 
truth.— Ed.] 


EXCELLENCIES OF LYINO. 79 

Sparta, it is said, tMeves were pnnislied, not for stealing, 
but for permitting themselves to be caught; the law- 
makers, no doubt, arguing that the fool deserves severer 
chastisement than the rogue. W ere the same rule adopted 
now as to lying, it would soon close the mouths of those 
arrant bunglers who so frequently provoke our ridicule 
and contempt. 

Man was originally endowed with the power of clear 
and distinct articulation, which, after some improvement, 
enabled him to convey what ideas he pleased to his fel- 
lows. It is agreeable to all experience that in using this 
excellent gift, he should consult his own convenience, 
and he has accordingly introduced this habit of lying. 
From the highest to the humblest, and from the gray- 
haired old man to his youthful grand-child, all find ft of 
use. The priest, the lawyer, the physician, have ren- 
dered it a necessary part of their professions. Trades- 
men and mechanics have by no means neglected it, and 
some have made such signal use of it, that we now look 
upon the sons of Crispin as comparable only to a horde 
of Cretians, who, we are assured by excellent authority, 
were always liars. The conveniences resulting from this 
practice have ever been so very apparent, that its origin 
was almost coeval with the existence of man; for one 
of our primitive ancestors, after exhibiting his moral 
depravity by murdering his brother, was stupid enough, 


80 


REOOKDS. 


when asked the whereabouts of the slain, to answer the 
all-knowing questioner, I know not ; am I my brother’s 
keeper?” Since his day it has been introduced into 
every walk of life, and is now used without reference to 
the occasion — some being even so addicted to it as to tell 
a lie when the simple truth would answer better. In 
childhood we seek to avoid the rod by resorting to it, 
and when we attain to years of discretion we find it con- 
venient upon much more trifling occasions. Does some 
intolerable bore intrude upon you, you dismiss him to 
the digestion of a lie, and find pleasure in the reflection 
of having done so. When an impatient creditor duns 
you, what more convenient than a plausible falsehood ? 
When an appeal is made to your purse by some impor- 
tunate borrower or beggar, you know well how to answer 
him by an untruth. Should you get into dijficulty, you 
study what virtue there is in language, and use it to 
effect your end. When an inquisitive wife pests you 
with her troublesome inquiries, you have the example 
of an honorable Eoman senator for telling her a lie; 
and when you have broken a promise, why, you know 
well how to excuse yourself by resorting to the same 
means that caused its violation. 

Knowing the great conveniences of this habit, and 
being masters of our tongues, the fault lies with us if 
we cannot touch whatever chord in the nature of our 


EXCELLENCIES OF LYINO. 81 

fellows that we wish to arouse. To attain this degree 
of perfection, however, we should he properly schooled. 
Ever since the times of Thauth, Hermes, and Cadmus, 
many have endeavored to excel in efforts to reduce the 
gift of speech to writing, and to regular rules and systems. 
Every variety of sciences, whatever their pretensions, 
have so used it as best to promote their interests, invent- 
ing new words, or assigning strange meanings to old ones, 
whenever occasion required. It has been the great foun- 
tain and support of every excellence of which we know, 
and the powerful medium of every humbug that has 
heretofore cursed society. It may, therefore, appear 
strange that no one has yet, for the great benefit of man- 
kind in general, resorted to it for the elements to estab- 
lish, as a distinct profession, the art of well and skill- 
fully framing a falsehood. 

The schools of philosophy have settled it that men 
may lie. Whether they have done so upon the strength 
of the , bold opinion of the crafty Lysander, that truth 
and falsehood are^ indifferent things ; or upon the com- 
prehensive saying of Sophocles, ^^I judge no speech 
amiss that is of use or upon the more designing maxim 
of the Spaniard, tell a lie and you will get out the 
truth or upon the anatomical principle of the petit 
Prince of Bantam, which will certainly be admired by 
our modern physiologists, ray tongue has no bone in 


83 


RECORDS. 


it to make it more stiff tkan is necessary for my interest;’^ 
it is not material here to determine. Suffice it, that it 
has been so settled, and as our practices conform 'to so 
enlightened a decision, policy would seem to require that 
they be reduced to regular and systematic rules. It is 
true, some have manifested considerable anxiety to secure 
for this habit a kind of scientific distinction. They 
have accordingly had resort to the stars, or if despairing 
of fiights so lofty, the hand or a pack of cards answered 
equally well to tell a fortune by. Though their plans 
and schemes were sufficiently ingenious, lying itself could 
not endure them. They could hope for no proselytes 
except amongst the credulous, and even amongst those 
they could only gain such as believed there was as 
much pleasure in being cheated as to cheat. Thus 
their efforts in this excellent work, have not only been 
defeated, notwithstanding the high encouragement they 
sometimes received, but if Euripides speaks to the pur- 
pose, they themselves have been made to feel the con- 
sequences of their mistakes : 

"What’s an Astrologer? I thus reply, 

A man who speaks few truths, hut many a lie. 

Which, when found out, he takes his heels to fly.” 

Perhaps their great failure is principally to be attributed 
to the narrow defectiveness of the founder of their 


EXCELLENCIES OF LYINC. 83 

tribe. It is true, the worthy man’s name has not yet 
been definitely ascertained, but then this very ignorance 
has helped us out of our perplexities in searching for 
it. The writers and critics upon Junius, when unable 
to discover the author of the famous letters, very sagely 
conclude that he was a man><.who had made himself 
acquainted with the affairs of his time, and who was, 
withal, somewhat of a genius. So Voltaire has disposed 
of this query in a very summary manner, by assuring 
us that the first rogue who met with the first block- 
head” was the inventor of soothsaying. Whilst this 
conclusion has been generally accepted a^ a very satis- 
factory one, it must be admitted that, though he may 
have been an acute rogue, he was none the less an in- 
discreet one, or he would not have attempted to confine 
this important privilege and practice of lying within so 
exclusive a circle. 

There could be no lack of material in speech upon 
which to construct .a system of scientific lying. Per- 
haps, by applying to it a term which has long since been 
banished from ears polite,” on account of its harsh- 
ness, I may be accused of a want of interest in so noble 
an enterprise. If so, I can only render as an excuse, 
that if lying can claim any one merit more than ano- 
ther, it is that of having ever maintained its own iden- 
tity, no matter what efforts were made to increase its 


84 


RECORDS. 


respectability by titles supposed to be more delicate. In 
tbis particular, it must be owned, it has always resembled 
its author, who, whether known as Satan or Beelzebub, 
Lucifer or'Vluto, is nothing but the plain, common devil 
after all; and who, though you should call him an angel, 
would be the devil still. Thus sacrificing no merit which 
it can justly claim, the difficulties of reducing it to a 
science could be easily overcome. 

An old maxim has it that “fools and children some- 
times speak the truth.'^ If “maxims are the condensed 
good sense of nations,^' as Sir James Mackintosh pithily 
observes, it would require excessive presumption to deny 
the wisdom of this one, so universally received and acted 
upon. The ancient moralists, after rearing a queer medley 
of truth and nonsense upon a few wise sayings, pro- 
nounced the heterogeneous mass the “ Science of Mo- 
rality.^^ This was at Ijeast generous, for it must be 
owned that a more convenient appellation for all who 
desired to sin according to moral law, could not have 
been invented by their philosophic magnanimity. “It 
is in the creed, sir,^' would have answered every accu- 
sation, and put an end to all further contention. “ Know 
thyself,” and “ Too much of nothing,” proverbial sayings 
for ages, were so well received that the seven wise men 
of G-reece consecrated them to Apollo, and inscribed 
them in letters of gold upon the door of his temple at 


EXCELLENCIES OF. LYINO. 85 

Delphos. After so important a precedent of respect to 
maxims, notwithstanding the many changes wrought hy 
time since the days of Thales and Solon, he who should 
seek to reduce the practice of lying to scientific rules, 
might claim equal consideration for the axiom given 
above, which he would of course so interpret as to make 
all wise men liars. If the wisest and the best who ever 
assumed the troublesome nature of man, could hang all 
the law and the prophets upon two commandments, 
surely the modern man of science might build a system 
upon a single maxim, whose object would be more to 
increase the dominion of Satan than the glory of a dif- 
ferent kingdom. The service he would thus render to 
society would be incalculable, and forever perpetuate 
his name as one of its most worthy benefactors. By 
teaching the public, young and old, and without dis- 
tinction of sex, to lie according to an approved system, 
our contempt would no longer be aroused by the fools 
now addicted to the practice, and who constantly exhibit 
a stupidity only equalled by that of the first liar of 
whom we have any record. Though we may have mules 
in the professions, who only make work for keener and 
shrewder knaves, and blunderers in the sciences, this 
should be no excuse for bunglers in this most worthy art 
of lying. Such, however, could readily be got rid of 

by elevating the habit to the dignity of a science, which 
8 


86 RECORDS, 

each should be permitted to practice after being skilled 
in its rules. To secure the more general proficiency of 
those who desired to study the system, it should be made 
an indispensable antecedent requisite, that they be fully 
worthy of their Prince, and as honest as the Lombard- 
ian sect spoken of in the bull of Pope Adrian VI., who 
fully~ackowledged the devil as their head, and promised 
obedience to him. 


P. A. 


A PAPER 


FILED AWAY WITH THE FOLLOWING TALE.' 


The tale of the Alchemist was related at our meeting to a con- 
course of as drowsy listeners as I ever saw congregated around 
a cheerful fire. The individual who related it, however, mani- 
fested a deep interest in every incident of the story. Indeed, 
when he arrived at some of the more startling and mysterious 
passages in it, he gave them with a ghostly intonation of voice, 
slowly and cautiously, looking anxiously around him to discover 
what impression they made. He exerted aU his powers to be 
interesting, and preserved a very serious air throughout ; which 
caused me to greatly suspect him as one of those easy-natured 
creatures, who are ever willing to believe whatever they hear, 
without troubling their heads for philosophic reasons, or per- 
mitting their faith to be at all interfered with by measuring 
probabilities. 

After he had finished, it was soon ascertained that the story 
is a genuine tradition, as faithfully believed by many as any 
chapter in their Bibles, and certainly oftener thought of and 
repeated. Upon being questioned, he replied that he had heard 
it from a number of citizens of well-known veracity, and that 
to doubt it was regarded, in the neighborhood where the events 
occurred, as the rankest heresy. Then, too, he added, it has 
some strong points to recommend it to our belief : it definitely 
disposes of several matters which would otherwise be compelled 
to repiain forever unsettled ; it is old, and many have heretofore 


88 


RECORDS. 


given it full credit, which should make us slow to doubt ; much 
of it is marvelous, and therefore incomprehensible, and what we 
cannot understand it would be irrational to condemn or deny. 

This provided against every doubt, and left no other choice 
but to believe or remain silent. The latter seemed to be gene- 
rally preferred, and the story was accordingly received as one 
of those strange tales in which every town used to abound,- and 
filed away as a part of the traditional history of the village to 
which it related. 

S 


THE ALCHEMIST; 


OR, THE MAGrIC FUNNEL. 


In a small village on the banks of the Susquehanna, 
several miles from the present location of the capitol of 
Pennsylvania, many years ago, there lived a very singular 
individual known to the villagers by the name of Felix 
Deford. He resided in a little log building at one end 
of the village, and during the first year of his abode 
there, never spoke over half a dozen words to any one 
of his neighbors. This strange exclusiveness, in a com- 
munity so small that each one not only knew the other 
but was perfectly familiar with his most trifling habits 
and pursuits, excited great curiosity, as could very 
naturally have been expected. He at once became the 
subject of general conversation, and various surmises 
were suggested in explanation of his conduct, in the 
propounding of whicTi the ladies were decidedly the mos^ 
8 * (80 


90 


KEOOUDS. 


prolific. This was owing, it was affirmed, to their natu 
rally more inquisitive dispositions ; hut, in the present 
instance, I am inclined to believe that it resulted rather 
from their having been endowed with feelings more 
tender and sympathetic than those of the opposite sex. 
This opinion seems to derive great strength from the 
fact that their conjectures generally agreed in assigning 
as the cause of his secluded habits, some unfortunate 
occurrence that depressed his spirits, and made him 
melancholy. 

It was indeed no little entertaining to hear the quiet 
and simple villagers, at their gossipping meetings, dis- 
cussing the case of this mysterious stranger, for to them 
he was doubly a stranger, from whatever view they might 
regard him. Though- they occasionally saw him, yet' so 
far as social intercourse was concerned, he might' as well 
have been in China. During the first year of his resi- 
dence amongst them, notwithstanding their many efforts 
to effect an acquaintance, they had not been able to as- 
certain anything respecting him beyond his name, which 
he never manifested the least disposition to conceal. 
Whatever advances had been made towards a closer in- 
timacy he had invariably repelled, but always in a 
manner, and with a modest and attractive politeness, 
which only prepossessed those who had made them the 
more in his favor. Instead of losing their interest 


I 


the alchemist. 91 

in him through the progress of time, their anxiety daily 
increased to obtain some knowledge of his manner of 
life, if nothing more. As yet, no one had been inside 
of his house since he resided in it, not even the rent 
collector, upon whom all had looked as likely, at least par- 
tially, to gratify them in this particular. 

On a warm evening in the month of August, a large 
party met at the house of one of the villagers, when, as 
was usual at such gatherings, the subject of conversa- 
tion turned upon the queer habits of Felix Deford. 
One fair young creature, who had once been favored 
with a sight of him, gave it as her opinion, that not 
having heeded the judicious counsel of Sophocles, 
never let woman rob thee of thy wits,^^ his hopes had 
been wrecked in some sad and unsuccessful love adven- 
ture. In giving vent to her sympathies for the unfor- 
tunate Felix, she did not refrain from denouncing the 
cruelty of some of her sex in a manner which modestly 
intimated, that her own heart would never have permit- 
ted her to send so devoted a lover as he must have been 
into miserable exile. This was immediately taken up by 
a sharp-visaged, hatchet-faced specimen of the ancient 
maiden lady, whose beauty, had she lived ages ago, would 
scarcely have induced the most forlorn Grecian gallant 
to pronounce her, in the expressive and complimentary 
phrase of his time, ^^a virgin who gained oxen.’^ For 


/ 


Q2 RECORDS, 

forty years slie had experienced the terrors of single 
blessedness, from what cause she could not divine, which 
had by no means rendered her patient and charitable. 
She unhesitatingly advanced it as her judgment, that 
his conduct, if love had anything to do with it, resulted 
rather from remorse of conscience for past offences than 
from female cruelty. Examples of this kind were not 
wanting, and she herself had once known a Frenchman 
the recollection of whose wicked amours so preyed upon 
his mind that he voluntarily banished himself from the 
sight of men — as severe a punishment, it was thought, ^ 
as could possibly he inflicted upon a Frenchman. An old 
lady here interposed, and related a story of a melancholy 
individual, whose many deplorable mishaps had fully 
convinced him of the ancient theory, that each one was 
horn under a good or an evil genius. It had been his 
direful fate to have been ushered into the world under 
one of the latter kind. Whatever he had been prompted 
to undertake, soon gave evidence that, however fickle a 
goddess Fortune may he, to him she was ever constant : 
not that she loved him, hut merely because she was even 
more patient and spiteful than an affronted Corsair. 
Nothing would prosper under his protection, though he 
had been as watchful as a vestal virgin. He had fre- 
quently envied the Grecian youth who, killing his step- 
mother in endeavoring to hurl a stone at a dog, exclaimed, 


THE ALCHEMIST. 93 

Fortune had a better aim than If luck had been 
half as favorably inclined towards him, some fortunate 
accident would not so long have permitted a Fury in the 
form of a termagant wife to have added to his troubles. 
After wooing Fortune for a number of years to no pur- 
pose, he at length determined at least to escape her frowns 
and punishments, if he could not share her civili- 
ties and therefore betook himself to the wood to adopt 
the life of the anchorite. What became of him after 
this was never clearly ascertained, but it was supposed 
his evil genius had found in him too good a subject to 
be abandoned to the whining winds of the forest. To 
this a young gentleman replied that he had good reason 
to believe -that Felix was not so much a fool. He at 
least-gave evidence of possessing more fortitude, judging 
from the manner in which he had resisted the repeated 
and troublesome inquiries of the villagers. It may be, 
suggested the young man, that he had come to the vil- 
lage from mere love. of a retired life; or, perhaps, being 
of studious habits, he sought its quielude to prosecute 
his researches. Another one remarked, that he had once 
known a very worthj| and pious minister, who had been 
so exclusively given to religious meditations, that he had 
often wished for the most solemn privacy and quietude; 
and had it not been for the sweet temper of his lovely 
wife and her happy efforts to interest and cheer him, he 


94 


KECORDS. 


would inevitably have shut himself up in some dun- 
geon. An interesting young Miss, who had spent much 
of her time in reading novels, now thought it her turn 
to venture an opinion, which she did by drawing upon 
the extensive and valuable stock of stories hoarded in 
her memory. She had often read of men, who, though 
they could not transform themselves like Moeris, the 
magical shepherd, or become altogether lycanthropic, yet 
abandoned human society to mingle with wild beasts 
in forests and deserts, or in the darker recesses of cliffs 
and caves. Having fixed their affections upon some 
object, their souls became wrapped up in its pursuit and 
attainment, and when disappointed, they could not with- 
stand the revulsion of feeling that necessarily followed, 
and therefore fiew to solitude. Some of these, inter- 
rupted the sharp-visaged elderly lady before alluded to, 
were no doubt driven to such extremities through the 
excessive indulgence of evil passions, through bitter re- 
grets and remorse, through a deep sense of their infamy, 
or to hide their shame whilst planning new villanies to 
be practiced after the old ones had been forgotten. 

This proved an unfortunate int|rruption, and had a 
remarkable effect in preparing the minds of the party 
for what followed. Under the influence of a particular 
impression, we are often led to make ourselves ridicu- 
lous, or to do that of which we afterwards seriously re- 




THE ALCHEMIST. 


95 


pent. The ideas naturally prompted by the words of 
the last speaker, were well intended to reverse the course 
of their remarks when aided by what transpired imme- 
diately after. She had scarcely finished her insinuating 
speech, before a new acquisition was made to the circle 
by the entrance of a young man, a simple, good-natured 
soul, whose silly humors had frequently afforded amuse- 
ment to his more knowing acquaintances. He reported 
that, having just passed Heford^s house, he heard a ter- 
rible racket, and upon endeavoring to ascertain the cause, 
by placing his head against the door, he became so much 
alarmed by the mixed confusion within that he quickly 
hastened away. True, he had seen nothing, but his 
ears had convinced him that the sounds were unearthly, 
and not the voices of ordinary human beings. They 
were unlike anything he had ever heard before, and 
then, too, they were accompanied by singular groans and 
painful hisses, by the clatter of chains, and the jingling 
of small sharp-sounding bells, and by a confused noise 
which much resembled that occasioned by rapidly stri- 
king two pieces of sheet-iron against each other. Such 
a formidable array of incomprehensible things had not 
failed to make a very visible impression upon the coun- 
tenance of the young man, which, however, was only 
regarded as confirming his tale. After this astonishing 
narration, though before there were few in that circle 


96 


RECORDS. 


wlio had not regarded Felix as an honest, well-bred gen- 
tleman, there was little charity left amongst them, and 
indeed much less sense. Their minds were now directed 
into another channel of thought, and quite different 
causes were alleged as explanatory of Deford’s habits — 
so sure are we to follow the lead of what is uppermost 
in our heads, though we should be rendered the veriest 
fools for our pains. Each of them now had some fanciful 
story to relate, and it soon became the settled conviction 
that poor Felix had to be shunned, for there could be 
no telling what mischief he might bring upon the vil- 
lage. Some expressed their thoughts that perhaps he 
might be nothing more than an escaped convict after 
all, or some despicable outlaw, who was compelled to 
keep himself hid to avoid detection. Others had heard 
of highwaymen and freebooters, after a long life of crime 
and infamy, retiring to some private habitation quietly 
to enjoy their plunder, and repent of their misdeeds at 
leisure : a practice now much in vogue amongst lesser 
criminals, and highly honorable in refined and civilized 
communities, though it was then little known to the rude 
and industrious villagers. Others, still, had heard of 
those who hunted up unfrequented and gloomy places to 
meet the hideous spectres of the night in their peregri- 
nations ^^up and down the earth;” whilst a fourth even 
recollected individual instances of miserable wretches 


THE ALCHEMIST. 


97 


resorting to hidden and secluded spots to hold communion 
with the evil one. Certain it was, there were few now 
in that circle who were willing to affirm that Deford’s 
conduct was the result of good motives or an honorable 
career. The tide of opinion was turned against him, so 
sure is an odd demeanor, sooner or later, destined to 
breed ill-thoughts in those around us, and arouse sus- 
picion. Curiosity hates to be baffled, and when it seizes 
hold of an entire neighborhood, it becomes a dangerous 
thing, and the discreet and judicious man will always 
avoid it. Without a guide to govern and control it, the 
itching phrensy of inquisitiveness is as limitless in its 
range as it is void of reason and discretion. 

Whilst, however, the villagers had been moved to the 
highest degree of anxiety to learn something more of 
Felix than simply his name, he was no less curious con- 
cerning matters of quite a different character, but which 
were of about equal significance.' Unfortunately for 
him, he was one of those deluded, so-called philosophers 
who have always had their counterparts in all ages of 
the world; and who, despising simple and common things, 
as a French commentator truly observes, followed the 
lead of quaint fancies and cheating vagaries, even reject- 
ing the plainest truths unless they came invested with 
a charm to gratify their desire for the extraordinary and 

marvelous. Every fantastic story of ghost or goblin 
9 


98 


RECORDS. 


that had come to his knowledge, and every mysterious 
witch transaction, had, to him, been important matters 
for study. He had squandered many days in search of 
an antidote to decrease the dominion of death, yet never 
attempted to wrest from its grasp any poor victim of 
disease. Was there not,^^ he would ask of himself, a 
tree of life in the garden of Eden, and if its fruit pos- 
sessed the magic power of imparting perpetual life, has 
nature lost the qualities and elements of which they 
were composed ? Are we not informed by the ancient 
Skalds and Sagas, that the heroes and warriors of old, 
when pressed down and enfeebled by age, repaired to the 
fair and beautiful Iduna, to eat of the ^ apples of youth,' 
and become young again To him, the efforts of the 
Spanish voyager, Juan Ponce de Leon, in search of the 
mystic spring, located, by tradition, somewhere amongst 
the sands of Florida, a sip of whose precious waters im- 
parted rejuvenescence, and secured perennial youth, had 
been an enterpris’e so noble that better success should 
have crowned it. Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastes 
Paracelsus Honenhelm, after first pruning down his 
monstrous name to decent proportions, which was, per- 
haps, the most sensible act he performed during his life, 
became possessed of the elixir vita. If," thought 
Felix, the foolish neglect of a careless and fickle world, 
which not unfrequently throws away its greatest blesp 


THE ALCHEMIST. 


99 


ings, or treats tliem with contempt for long periods of 
time, permitted such important knowledge to he entirely 
lost, the best, if not the only thing that can be done, is 
to endeavor to restore it . again/^ Most excellent reason- 
ing, and practical enough for a better cause. How vast, 
how immeasurably incalculable would be the results follow- 
ing the revelation of these hidden mysteries, which formed 
but a trifling portion of the wonderful and marvelous 
things to the investigation of which Felix had devoted 
his life ! The elixir of Paracelsus would effectually 
banish from the world the innumerable nostrums now 
poured down the throats of the public in torrents which 
threaten to supersede entirely the use of nature’s beve- 
rage as a drink. The visitors to Florida would far exceed 
in number and array the pilgrims to Mecca, or the de- 
luded travellers towards the holy waters of the Ganges. 
Fortunate Iduna ! what a mighty host of love-sick 
swains would woo thee ! Who, then, would have reason 
to lament over the terrible inroads of age ? The pleas- 
ant and innocent means now resorted to, with most com- 
mendable patience and perseverance, to conceal its hated 
furrows and wrinkles, would be doomed to oblivion, as 
things interdicted from human remembrance. The nov- 
elty of nature, unadorned by such admirable arts, 
which many have been so anxious to behold, would then 
be everywhere paraded to the popular gaze, and habit 


100 


RECORDS. 


would soon accustom us to its sight. Some inspired 
poet, then, might sing a doleful requiem over rouge and 
pearl, and ilo loving youth would he compelled to search 
a clear, unpainted, and unpowdered spot whereon to kiss 
his lady-love. None, too, would then he moved to re- 
echo the regret of Euripides, 

« That men should he deny’d 

The gift of springing to a second youth, 

A double age !” 

And what might not he the salutary effects upon the 
world’s morality, for could 

“ We turn our steps, and tread again 

The path of life, what slips we once had made 
We would correct, and every cheating maze 
Avoid, where folly lost our way before.” 

Through these discoveries, so potent in their influence 
and wide in their range, the world might possibly become 
stocked with a superior order of men, and its wicked- 
ness cease to he a constant and an endless subject of 
complaint. It would then he a delight to live in it amid 
its general harmony and concord ; and none would he • 
made to appreciate the feelings frequently expressed by 
a friend of mine, who always resolved, whenever dis- 
gusted at the depravity how too common, to emigrate to 


THE ALCHEMIST. 


101 


some uninliabited island, and commence tlie world anew, 
in imitation of old Adam, firmly believing that he could 
raise a better brood. 

Felix Deford, however, during his residence in the 
village, had been more particularly engaged in other in- 
quiries. The things which we ordinarily encounter during 
life, were far too dull and stupid for his ardent nature. 
He longed for something more extraordinary and marvel- 
ous, and accordingly betook himself to search for it. He 
had wit enough to know, that nature, so far as it is under- 
stood, has fixed a certain, definite rule of government 
which had first to be surmounted before the supernatural 
could be attained. This had been done long before his 
time, and so very signally, that even the most wonderful 
metamorphosis were wrought with perfect ease. Does 
not Pliny himself affirm, and he certainly should have 
known, that the change of females into males is not fabu- 
lous, and Montaigne assure us that he actually saw a 
man who had once been a woman ? Thanks, we should 
rather say to Felix, that such magic powers are known 
no more j for in our day, when women so madly aspire to 
man^s condition, the stock would soon be entirely lost. 
Felix, however, apprehended no evil consequences from 
such a discovery, for women would then be no longer 
needed, and who, argued he, could suffer to be incommoded 

with them but for their absolute necessity ? Whatever 
9 * 


103 


RECORDS. 


dangers suggested themselves to his mind upon this score, 
he rapidly dismissed, with the reflection that the world 
was at no loss for inhabitants, and after a sip from the 
mystic spring, or a slice from Iduna’s apple, the race 
would no longer require replenishing, and could therefore 
readily afford to dispense with the fairer portion of crea- 
tion. If’ we contemplate with awe the ruins of nations, 
ideas of whose imposing grandeur have been transmitted 
to us for our admiration and wonder, and ponder with 
melancholy anguish upon the fact that millions of human 
creatures were crushed in their fall, what strange emo- 
tions, what terrible feelings, would not be inspired by the 
total extinction of the most lovely of the sexes — the first 
honored companion of solitary man in the sacred bowers 
of Eden ! No, Felix; no discovery, though it should be 
a secret passage to the gates of Paradise, could atone for 
so sad a loss. Woman was the only instrument of Godly 
mercy fit to shed a ray of sunshine upon the path 
of man when first his race began. Though she caused 
, him to go astray, she has done much to repair her error. 
In the bright glory yet in reserve for her, to calm and 
cheer the agony and despair of his last hour with the 
sweet and exhaustless affection of her lovely nature, well 
will she redeem the stain her impulsive confidence brought 
upon her angelic character. 

The realization of these unnatural powers constituted 


THE ALCHEMIST. 103 

the dream, of Felix, and for this he had devoted his hours 
to magic in his solitary study, which, to the view of a 
stranger, would have much resembled the operating room 
of an industrious philosopher. Old, musty, and neglected 
volumes, bearing ample evidence that they had under- 
gone the vicissitudes of many years, and suffered treat 
ment too barbarous to be entirely ascribed to the hands 
of studious and inquisitive man, were piled promiscuously 
upon the shelves. Scarcely one of them could boast an 
entire cover, and their black letter and roughly ornamented 
pages presented a bold contrast to the volumes of the 
present day. Around the room were seen numerous in- 
struments, with now and then some strange apparatus — 
things for which science had but few names, and common 
parlance was a total blank. In one corner your eye met 
nothing but crucibles, mortars, urns, pots, kettles, 
and cans; in another, you beheld a variety of jugs, de- 
canters, bottles, and vials ; whilst others contained a mass 
as indescribable as it was nameless. All, too, bore testi- 
mony of having been frequently used, and emitted a re- 
pulsive scent, sufficiently exhibiting that it required no 
very refined sense of smell to detest the pursuit of an 
alchemist. The rules of neatness and arrangement, how- 
ever, were not neglected in all this confusion. In the 
centre of the room a large circle was drawn, whilst the 
walls were totally covered with odd signs, strange figures, 


104 


RECORDS. 


and mystic devices. Here it was that the magician em- 
ployed his charms, and conjured up his spells, and here 
the alchemist pursued his intricate investigations. Here 
Felix had applied himself, with a devotion worthy of the 
greatest commendation, to realize, by magic and alchem- 
istic means, the dreams of those deluded Germans whose 
fantastic theories, for so long a time, had run away with 
the reason and good sense of their native cotemporaries, 
and eventually worked similar results in different sections 
of the world. He longed to verify the fancies of Rosen- 
creutz, which had set many a man^s ^^wits a wool-gath- 
ering,^^ and made strange fools of some of the cleverest, 
buh too credulous, fellows of all Europe and elsewhere. 
How happy he would have been in having been brought 
into closer communion with his Maker, or made the com- 
panion of noble spirits to whose wisdom he could have 
given the impress of utility, and thus eventually suc- 
ceeded in driving pain, disease, and sorrow from the 
world ! Had not the noted Dr. Torralba a magic Ze- 
quiel, apparently unlimited in power, to accompany him 
as his pledged and faithful friend, and had not Naude’s 
zenith and rising sun of all the Alchymists,’^ the 
skilful Paracelsus, a spirit confined in the hilt of his 
sword, and another imprisoned in a jewel ? The famous 
magician, Cornelius Agrippa, whose talents are attested 
by the great Erasmus and the smooth and gentle Mel- 


THE ALCHEMIST. 


106 


ancthon, did not only command the demons of the earth 
and the spirits of the air, but could even break in upon 
the repose of the dead, in the presence of whose great- 
ness he would have cowered during their lives, and sum- 
mon them before him, clothed in their accustomed 
habiliments! Though the tunic and mantle of the 
ancient Grecian had been decayed for centuries, and 
his body consumed by the devouring limestone which 
had composed his singular sarcophagus, the dismem- 
bered particles came together again, and were com- 
pelled to reappear at the powerful bidding of Corne- 
lius. This wonderful knowledge of the historiogra- 
pher of the Emperor Charles V., and the author of 
the ^^Superiority of the Female Sex,^^ to the great 
loss of the world, had been permitted to perish with 
him, and perhaps forever. Though Felix was indus- 
triously laboring to restore it again, and revive the 
marvels of magic and alchemy, it must be acknowl- 
edged he, was not exceedingly well adapted for the 
task. Although he had energy and perseverance to 
surmount every conquerable obstacle, he yet lacked two 
essential elements — he possessed too much honesty, and 
not enough imagination. ' Every pursuit requires cer- 
tain qualities of mind and heart, and in none have ima- 
gery and dishonesty more to do than in that in which he 
was engaged. They are indispensable to success in such 


106 . 


RECORDS. 


an enterprise, and in botli Felix was deficient. To 
speak the simple truth, there was a limit to his madness. 
He was weak enough not to doubt the truth of the super- 
human exploits and performances ascribed to the mas- 
ters in the art, whose works he had diligently studied ; 
yet not sufficiently crazy to see unearthly visions appear- 
ing in answer to his charms and incantations, when, in 
truth, there was nothing but vacancy before his eyes. 

Combining the fanatical theories of Bohmen, with the 
more rational and philosophic demonstrations of com- 
mon chemistry, he would undoubtedly have triumphed 
in his inquiries but for his deficiency in the qualities 
alluded to as essential to the alchemist. Though he had 
dreaded a search for the philosopher's stone, that great 
marvel for ages, after so many had failed before him; 
yet if Agrippa had so far succeeded as to change iron 
into gold, though it was destined to be converted into 
simple and worthless stone after one revolution of the 
earth, might not an improvement be made which should 
render the metamorphosis more permanent? Whether 
Agrippa had worked this wonder, which, indeed, would 
have furnished the clue to all others, by the discovery of 
the pebble for which so many had searched in vain, or 
through the direct intervention of the devil, had always 
been a mystery to Felix; but he had pondered upon it 
again and again, until it eventually brought him to the 


THE ALCHEMIST. 


107 


* 

determination of summoning his Satanic majesty before 
him. Although satan had unquestionably proved him- 
self a bad magician, if he had been the instrument made 
use of by Agrippa, Felix believed this was owing rather 
to his wily and treacherous nature than to a want of 
power. This determination once fixed, he resorted to the 
best approved arts usually employed in invoking demons 
and spirits, and such had been oiie of his principal occu- 
pations during the latter period of his residence in the 
village. He by no means desired their visits upon mere 
terms of intimacy and friendship, but demanded absolute 
dominion over them before compelling them into his pre- 
sence. Justin Martyr, and all the most ancient Fa- 
thers, — and cerjtainly their statements ought to be of great 
weight, — had too strongly depicted the horrors wrought 
by bad demons who had visited the earth, for Felix to 
desire their reappearance without possessing full power 
to control them. These learned and devout men, vene- 
rated even to this day with a kind of religious fervor, 
had furnished enough, and more, to show that such super- 
natural agents had not lost the worst vices of humanity, 
but in addition possessed greater means of indulging 
them, which they were not timid in exercising. Felix 
Deford knew the world^s many afflictions too well to wish 
to add any more to their number; but he believed that a 
charm so potent as to force the powefs of darkness to 


108 


RECORDS. 


obey its summons, bad only to be dispelled to drive them 
back to tbeir homes again. 

It would be wrong to neglect stating here, that if the 
masters whose astonishing knowledge and power Felix 
admired, mingled the mysteries of religion with their 
theories and principles, he by no means disregarded 
them. If it be' true, (and who doubts it ?) that in the 
antediluvian age, men had lived so many years as to make 
life resemble a sweet and pleasant immortality upon 
earth, a very remarkable change must have been effected 
since then. In the opinions of his masters, that this 
long life had been the result of a closer communion with 
the divine element, of social intercourse with the many 
good spirits supposed to inhabit and abound in space, 
and of possessing a controlling power over the evil ones, 
he saw no poetry, but the serious truths of philosophy. 
Here, then, there had been sufficient to attract his atten- 
tion to the mysterious portionS'of his Bible, just as the 
disbeliever is drawn to those which human intellect is 
incapable of solving or reconciling. His researches, 
however, had a less ruinous effect, for they perplexed 
only himselfj and did no harm to others. 

He pursued his studies, boiled his mystic herbs, applied 
his minerals, made his magic mixtures, and resolved his 
wild problems, constantly expecting some answer from 
regions which he was incapable of penetrating. His 


THE ALCHEMIST. 109 

failures never daunted him, for the doctrines of his mas- 
ters had been too well settled in his mind, and he was too 
thoroughly convinced of their accuracy, to permit a sup- 
position of their untruth. He was neither so vain nor 
impatient as to reproach his predecessors because he had 
failed to meet with equal success, but ascribed his 
repeated disappointments to his own deficiencies and im- 
perfections. He had been too intent upon his studies to 
have much concerned himself about the villagers, who, 
ever since the meeting of the evening party before de- 
scribed, suspected his motives and feared his designs. 
Not knowing what evils he might bring upon them, and 
impelled by a very troublesome curiosity, they imagined 
the worst, so naturally are we given to exaggeration; and 
now began to refuse supplying him with the requisite 
comforts of life, thus expecting to bring matters to a de- 
cisive point. This, at last, compelled him to greater 
sociability, but he refused to become communicative. 
Though asked a thousand times, directly and indirectly, 
concerning his solitary pursuits, he had as many civil 
and respectful answers, leaving his questioners as igno- 
rant as they were before. At length, however, the curi- 
osity of the village triumphed. A young rogue, more 
cautious and cunning than the rest, ascertained what were 
his employments, and smiled at the great consternation 

caused by the discovery. He adorned his tale with all 
10 


110 


JRECORDS. 


the poetry of his rough fancy, and so interwove it with 
marvels and falsehoods that it gave ample proof that he 
would have made a much better alchemist than Felix. 
His story fully realized the imaginings of the wildest 
magician, and soon succeeded in persuading the villagers 
that Deford was the absolute controller of spirits, and 
the unlimited master of demons. As a dealer in for- 
bidden things, he was now still more carefully avoided. 
Had Felix here thrown away his honesty, for he began 
' to feel the undeserved reputation he was acquiring, and 
issued from his cloister publicly to practice his incanta- 
tions, he could have performed wonders before the eyes 
of the villagers not surpassed in splendor by any accredi- 
ted to his masters : but he preferred to continue his 
studies and his conjurations as if unconscious of the 
opinions entertained concerning him. This only had the 
effect of increasing the consternation of the villagers 
still more. His name at once became an object of dread 
to the credulous, and a subject of terror to the old wo- 
men, who soon made it the fright of the nursery. Ke- 
collections of old and marvelous stories were rapidly 
revived, and for some time nothing seemed to be known 
or talked of in the village but terrible tales. There was 
scarcely a man or woman to be found who had not recently 
seen a ghost or been troubled by some fearful spectre, 


THE ALCHEMIST. 


Ill 


for all wliicli Felix had to bear the blame. ^ Amongst 
these, the most conspicuous was the sharp-visaged old 
maid, who now saw more ghosts and phantoms than there 
had been Gods in the heathen Pantheons, and pointed 
to this fe,ct as a full and triumphant verification of the 
opinions she had first expressed concerning him. To 
billet an army upon a town is always attended with 
great confusion, and necessarily with no little terror ; 
but she accused him of something more awful still. 
She unhesitatingly affirmed that he had filled the village 
with spirits and devils, to trouble the repose of its 
people ; but an incredulous fellow, perhaps moved by a 
malicious disposition, insisted that such could not pos- 
sibly have been the case, otherwise she could not have 
been secure for a single moment. No nook or corner 
could be found where ghost or goblin had not been. 
The street had become the dancing ground of the tenants 
of darkness, and the limits of the village the general 
theatre for their sports and evil practices, and all through 
the incantations of the conjuror. Every bare spot which 
had refused to yield as abundantly as its neighbor, brought 
a curse upon poor Felix; every strange mark discovered 
was regarded as a sure indication of superhuman agency, 
and every odd foot-print afforded a monstrous theme for 
conjecture. Singular noises began to be heard in the 
air: some exulting and merry — others plaintive and 


113 


RECORDS. 


melanclioly. Confusion seized the cattle, the horses 
became as stubborn as the women, the dogs kept np a 
continual howl and fight, and night was rendered hideous 
by caterwauls. The pigs and chickens were no less 
rebellious, the noisy fowls became more noisy and rest- 
less, and the barnyards resembled perfect Babels. The 
crow of the cock was no longer the morning signal of 
the approach of day, for it was heard at all hours of the 
night. Everything seemed to have been turned upside 
down, or tossed about by some miraculous and fearful 
power. It is supposed that the land inhabited by spirits 
is pleasant and enchanting, that fairies and genii seek 
none but the abodes of beauty, but here all was dismay. 
It was not strange that the majority of the villagers 
should have been made afraid to venture out of doors 
after the decline of the sun; yet notwithstanding all 
this, Felix had a few defenders. Though none could 
deny the evidences of tumult existing, these assigned 
quite a different cause for the fact. Make a village ma,d, 
said they, drive all the good sense out of the heads of 
its women and substitute fear, spread consternation 
amongst the children and discord amongst the men, and 
it would be truly miraculous if matters followed their 
usually peaceful routine. The brute will partake of the 
turbulent humors of its master,, and when constantly 


THE ALCHEMIST. 


118 


disturbed by surrounding dismay, cannot avoid becoming 


infected with the general confusion. 

Felix, at last, began to fear the mischief he had 
unintentionally been creating, and sallied forth once a 
day with the view of allaying it. As secresy was no 
longer possible, he endeavored to become as sociable and 
communicative as circumstances would permit, but the 
villagers generally shunned him as though he had been 
a pestilence. A few only could tolerate his presence 
and submit to his conversations, and these had to 
encounter the censure of being leagued with him. An 
evil motive and wicked intention was now ascribed to every 
trifling thing he did, and all his attempts to commingle 
sociably with the villagers were quickly attributed to some 
base design . It is strange how error leads us to phrensy, but 
such appears to be its very nature. When once it has 
taken root, it spreads and increases with unaccountable 
rapidity. With not one half the beauty and attraction 
of truth and reason' it yet seems to possess a hundred 
times their power and influence over our conduct. Truth 
moves with slow and certain tread — error with fearful 
impetuosity. A town once set in motion the wrong way, 
presents a terrific spectacle, and to arrest its career of 
madness is a task not easily performed. It had been so 
in the case of Felix Deford, and he soon ascertained 
that it was much less difficult to create a turbulent storm 


m 


114 


RECOKDS. 


than to allay it. The villagers became lavish in threats 
and curses against him yet, mistrusting and doubting, 
their fears compelled them to act with caution. Repeated 
deputations were sent to him, politely requesting him to 
retire from the village, lest his personal safety might be 
endangered. His efforts to remove their delusion proved 
unavailing, and they continued to insist until he dismissed 
them, no less impatient at their importunities than they 
had been apprehensive of his residence amongst them. 

Whilst they had been thus engaged in devising means 
for the expatriation of Felix, a danger more immediately 
threatening called for their undivided attention. Though 
it had been supposed they were entirely safe from Indian 
incursions, they noticed several suspicious signs and 
indications which induced them to prepare for an attack. 
The friendly feeling that had existed between the 
villagers and the savages in their immediate vicinity, 
had not deterred other tribes from ravaging wherever 
opportunities were presented. In this new difficulty, 
the alchemist nobly volunteered his assistance. With- 
out waiting for such a call, he assumed the command 
as one familiar with the practices and habits of the 
savage, and who had frequently been engaged in 
similar skirmishes. As was apprehended, the war- 
whoop was suddenly heard early one morning, and 
fully indicated the desperate encounter to be expected. 


THE ALCHEMIST. 


115 


The attack was commenced with a fury common to 
Indian warfare, and it was mainly through the vigilance 
of the magician that the contest resulted in the total 
rout of the savages. AIL were compelled to he lavish in 
their praises of his services, hut even the marvellous 
exploits which they ascribed to him could not inspire 
confidence and friendship. They were simply regarded 
as convincing proof of the exercise of forbidden power. 
Upon being rehearsed again and again, no little magni- 
fied at each repetition, few were willing to believe that 
he could have escaped unless protected by some super- 
human agency. Some had even seen strange figures 
hovering above his head and arresting the many and 
repeated blows aimed at him. Others had seen him 
surrounded by more than thirty savages at a time, yet 
none of these could so closely approach him as to use any 
weapon. He appeared to he encompassed by a mystic 
circle which no one could enter, thus enabling him to 
deal destruction around, whilst his assailants were 
rendered harmless. When tired of the slaughter in one 
section of the village, he almost imperceptibly rose 
above the heads of friends and foes, and was quickly 
transported to another that demanded his aid. Others, 
still, had seen him rush wildly into the very midst of 
savage groups, and rescue a number of brave villagers 
who had been defending themselves against great odds, 


116 


RECORDS. 


and so confusing the assailants that they even fell upon 
themselves to hurry their retreat. The more marvellous 
his exploits, the more did the villagers regret that he 
lived amongst them, for he might eventually prove more 
dangerous than the savages themselves, and how could 
they resist him ? • ; . - • 

Felix, however, was not disposed to be an object of 
dread to the villagers any longer. A few days after the 
incursion of the Indians, he was no more to be seen. To 
account for his sudden disappearance, it was alleged that 
he had followed the savages, and would continue to 
pursue them until their tribe was totally extinct. He 
was to become their evil spirit, who would enter into 
their midst and slaughter as he pleased, whilst their arms 
should be unavailing against him. This opinion obtained 
almost general consent as the most plausible, after a 
careful and cautious examination of his late residence 
had been made. Nothing was there to be found or seen 
save the black circle upon the floor, which, to the great 
astonishment of all, resisted every eff'ort made to erase it. 
The walls were now more clear and clean than ever, and 
retained no traces of the mysterious devices that had 
formerly ornamented them. The entire building ap- 
peared as though it had been fitted up for the reception 
of some fastidious tenant. All this, in the opinion of 
the villagers, had been the undoubted work of the 


I 

THE ALCHEMIST. 117 

spirits which they supposed the conjuror had under his 
command, and which would aid him in his avenging 
mission. 

h Their surmises were destined to he materially changed 
upon the arrival of one of the villagers who had been 
absent for several months upon public business. He was 
one of the principal men of the village, which important 
distinction he had won more through the interest he had 
manifested against Felix than any excellent qualities of 
his own. True, there was a little of the Hermanns good 
nature in his composition, and he had a great love for 
all that was wonderful and mysterious. He heard with 
astonishment the details of the villagers — how they had 
been attacked during his absence, and how Felix had 
assisted them, and then suddenly departed, as they 
supposed, to take vengeance upon the savages. In 
return, he had something interesting to relate, which 
soon undeceived them. Whilst wending his solitary 
way towards the village, he reported, night had over- 
taken him, and having been still a considerable distance ^ 
off, he kindled a fire upon the banks of the river, intending 
to repose until morning. Sometime during the night 
he was aroused from his quiet slumber, and looking 
round, he beheld a bright, blazing light in the air, high 
above the water. To his utter amazement^ there was 
Felix Deford in the blaze ! He was vehemently remon- 


118 


RECORDS. 


strating witli a figure so closely arrayed in black that its 
outlines could not be distinctly traced. The discussion 
continued sharply for some time. Although circumstances 
sufficiently indicated that Felix was in the presence of a 
superior, his spirit was unconquerable, and he ever 
seemed the victor in the wordy conflict, as the villager 
inferred from the manner of his antagonist. The black 
figure continued to become more terrible at every word, 
and at last began emitting foam from its mouth and fiire 
from its nostrils, but Felix refused to abate the least in 
his remonstrances. A different encounter now com- 
menced between them, which promised to be more 
decisive than words. The blaze that enveloped them 
began to spread and heave as though it partook of the 
anger of the <jombatants, much resembling huge and 
boisterous billows when dashed into spray in quick 
succession against an irresistible rock. It seemed to have 
been caught up in a terrible tempest, and amid its turbu- 
lent agitation, the contest between Felix and his 
antagonist was continued by rapidly hurling large black 
darts at each other. No want of skilful aim was 
exhibited, yet each appeared to be composed of an 
impenetrable substance, and the destructive missiles no 
sooner touched the person of either than they rebounded 
again, or flew off at angles, and vanished into air. 
Abandoning these apparently inefficient instrunients. 


THE ALCHExMiy r. 119 

they approached, and engaged hand to hand with fiery 
swords ; hut so equally were they matched in this mode 
of warfare that they only exhausted themselves, and 
after making a number of furious, but ineffectual blows 
and thrusts, they threw away their weapons. Pant- 
ing from the exertion of the desperate battle, they 
stood for some time gazing intently at each other, 
exhibiting a fearful and unearthly savageness. At 
length the contest was again resumed, and huge bolts, 
whose dark-blue color contrasted beautifully with the 
glare that surrounded them, were thrown with marvellous ' 
dexterity, but they were as vigilantly and skilfully 
parried or avoided. It was now as dif&cult to be true 
to their aim as it had been easy before, plainly indicating 
that a blow from the bolt was held in different esteem 
than a stroke from the darts previously used. Sud- 
denly Felix sprang with a savage leap upon his antago- 
nist, having at the same moment been struck by one of 
these monstrous missiles, when instantly the flame disap- 
peared, and both fell rapidly down into the water. 
Nothing was now heard but the rushing of the current, 
which seemed to have become more boisterous, and the 
villager composed himself to sleep again. 

He awoke in the morning, and directing his eyes over 
the body of the water, he beheld rapid currents from all 
sides, rushing towards the spot where the combatants 


lao 


RECORDS. 


had' fallen. The object was strange to him, and he 
entered his light canoe determined to investigate it. 
Fortunately for his curiosity, before he reached the 
ungovernable current, he saw the trunk of a large tree 
floating down the river. It was drawn towards the 
arena that had attracted his attention, and rapidly 
approaching the centre, it was whirled round and round, 
tearing up the water as if laboring in a mighty whirl- 
wind, or grappling to be freed from the clutch of a 
fearful monster. Its terrible struggles were unavailing, 
and by a powerful effort, as though the might of the 
waters had been concentrated upon one object, it was 
raised on end, when down, down it passed from sight. 
This new wonder was scarcely less surprising to the 
villager than the occurrences he had witnessed during 
the night, and guarding his fragile bark he for some 
time watched the raging element. Every thing that 
came within reach of the current, which had formed it- 
self into a great funnel, was dragged down its voracious 
centre, however awful or prolonged its struggles. 
What became of it afterwards ever remained a close and 
impenetrable mystery. 

After this astonishing report had been heard and 
fully commented upon by the villagers, all other sur- 
mises in reference to Felix were abandoned, and many 
visited the place where he had fought his last battle. 


THE ALCHEMIST. 1531 

There was none now to be found amongst them who 
had no regrets for the poor alchemist. Although he 
had been an object of fear to them whilst seen in their 
midst, he had rendered services too important when ' 
the village had been assailed by the savages, not to 
have secured the good wishes of all ; and if they had 
so heartily desired him to remove his abode elsewhere, 
they as fervently wished prosperity to attend him. 
Even the sharp-visaged old maid, who had before so 
repeatedly expressed her ill opinion of him, now exhi- 
bited her gratitude. During the assault of the Indians, 
she affirmed, he had twice rescued her from the toma- 
hawk of the savages just in time to prevent the blows 
that would certainly have terminated her existence. 
With all her want of charity and magnanimity, there 
was still the sweet tenderness of woman in her nature, 
and she could not restrain her lamentations and her 
tears. 

For a long, long time, the story of Felix continued 
to be the village talk. The strange disposition of the 
waters that commemorated his last exploit, acquired 
the name of the Magic Funnel’’ from the villagers, 
and whatever was drawn into it was engulfed forever. 
Its end or termination remained unknown. It was a 
suggestion of some of the more philosophic villagers, 

that the immense currents which then fed it may have 

11 


133 


KF.COKDS. 


entered again into the body of the river at a distance 
of many miles, or have had a number of outlets so 
small that none would have thought of tracing them to 
their original source. Whatever of truth or error 
there may have been in these and kindred surmises, it 
is said, as a truth which was never doubted by the vil- 
lagers, that the poor and ill-fated alchemist makes a 
circuit every year, entering the Magic Funnel’^ again, 
together with his antagonist. On every anniversary of 
his fearful encounter, the singular flame may be seen 
again in the air, with a renewal of the battle. Often 
these waters lash, each other as if in great trouble, and 
it has passed into a traditional saying with the sturdy 
watermen of the Susquehanna, whenever they see them 
surge and foam with unusual impetuosity, that the con- 
juror and his powerful adversary are at each other 
again, interchanging their terrible frowns and hurling 
their fearful bolts. The humble boatman, as he cau- 
tiously moves by this mysterious place, now far less 
dangerous than many years ago, with his fragile skiff 
or light canoe, still gives a sighing thought to the 
memory of the conjuror, and not unfrequently sings a 
doleful requiem over the fate of the Village Alchemist. 


H. 0. 


REMARKS. 


INTENDED TO PRECEDE THE EOLLOWING ESSAY. 


“ If, in the paper herewith submitted, > there may be any con- 
fusion, or supposed misapplication of terms, we claim our 
privilege. In old time, those who excelled in the sciences 
were called Sages, which was equivalent to our learned. 
This pedantic appellation, however, could not be tolerated by 
the modest Pythagoras, who, being merely an anxious searcher 
after knowledge, refused to arrogate to himself its actual 
possession, and therefore assumed the title of Philosopher, or 
Lover of Wisdom. He deserves immortal honor for this happy 
application of the word, yet we are not quite sure that he 
would have used it at all had he foreseen the consequences 
to which it has led. Ever since his day, it has become the 
custom to look upon all whose wild fancies are inexpli- 
cable, as “Philosophers;” and whenever a confused mass of 
nonsense is collected together, so heterogeneous that human 
ingenuity is at a loss to classify it, it is generally dubbed 
“Philosophy.” Whatever of incongruity, confusion, or mis- 
application may be detected in our essay, must, therefore, 
under the most approved customs of the times, be regarded 
as wonderfully philosophic, and being thus converted into a 
merit, we need add nothing in extenuation.” 

[Note. — The above introductory remarks, together with the paper 
which they accompanied, were read before the Association as the report 
of a Committee. — Editor.] - 


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AN ESSAY. 


THE BEAUTY OP A WELL CULTIVATED HEART. 


However high and exalted the achievements of 
mind, and whatever the pleasures and consolations of 
knowledge, these are small when contrasted with the 
beauties of a well-cultivated heart. The grand attain- 
ments of talent and genius, exhibiting man^s lofty 
superiority over all animated existence, may attract 
our admiration and elicit our surprise, but the mani- 
festation of those noble qualities which we ascribe to 
the heart, alone can make us feel. Mind only appeals 
to mind : heart alone to heart. 

Knowledge is wealth,^' was a favorite and perhaps 
somewhat egotistical saying of the ancient philoso- 
phers, and, indeed, without it man would be a most 
pitiable creature. It is a maxim ascribed to Zoro- 
aster, that ^^he who lives in ignorance knowetl^ 
( 125 ) 11 * 


136 


RECORDS. 


neither God nor religion/^ and Thales, one of the 
seven wise men of Greece, and founder of the Ionic 
sect, calls him ^^who enjoys good health, finds fortune 
favorable, and has well cultivated his soul with sound 
learning,^^ the happy man. IVithout mental culture, 
we cannot appreciate the treasures of nature, and un- 
less we have a knowledge of its laws, obtained through 
a study of the sciences, we cannot realize the comforts 
with which it is arrayed for the benefit of mankind. 
Even the merciful government of God is rendered one 
of terror and fear through ignorance, whilst the in- 
tercourse with our fellows so essential to social happi- 
ness, is restrained within the most narrow bounds, and 
we remain little better than barbarians. The Mityle- 
nians esteemed ignorance of the liberal arts a deplo- 
rable punishment, and thus, when masters of the sea, 
they prohibited the revolted allies from 'teaching their 
children letters or music, as the most grievous penalty 
they could possibly inflict. 

The affections, and those virtues which signally 
reach them, we have for ages been accustomed to place 
to the heart’s account. We yield to it all the virtues 
of sensibility, and thus it becomes the great source 
and centre of feeling. To it we ascribe that generous 
commiseration and sympathy which constitute the 
pillars of society, and which have long since confirmed 


AN ESSAY. 


127 


the declaration of the great Roman orator, that no 
nation has ever existed where civility, good nature, and 
gratitude, were not had in esteem, and where the proud, 
the mischievous, the cruel, and ungrateful, were not had 
in contempt and abhorrence. Wisdom may flatter our 
self-love, and as it advances, justly challenge our re- 
spect, hut we fail to see in it the power or the pleasure ' 
which is inseparable from the heart’s good sentiments. 

It is to no purpose to be wise, unless we are rendered 
better,” truly observes Lucian. Life is made a bless- 
ing, not through the influence of mind, however much 
it may have done to surround us with the means of 
comfort and enjoyment, but through the great excellen- 
cies of man’s nature. It is a law of nature, as we are 
told by the most eminent moralists, that each should 
cultivate an agreeable sociability as the best means of 
promoting the end for which human society has been 
instituted. This can never be successfully done with- 
out the virtues of the heart — such as friendship and / 
love, and above and including all, charity. 

The pleasure of man’s intercourse with his fellows 
depends principally upon the virtues that adorn him. 
The wise, if arrogant, vain, and ungrateful, may only 
succeed in awakening within the good feelings of min- 
gled respect and contempt; whilst the generous, the 
humble, the just, will ever elicit universal esteem. We 


128 


KECORDS. 


rely upon their gratitude and confide in their friend- 
ship, realizing the happiness of their guileless sincerity 
and truth. Without friendship, life would he a gift 
which we might well despise. ^^By what other 
means,^^ asks Seneca, ^^are we preserved, hut by the 
mutual assistance of good turns It is this generous 
virtue, springing from the heart, that renders our asso- 
ciations agreeable, and throws around our existence the 
joys and pleasures of social life. ^^If any man,^^ says 
Xenophon, a lover of virtue, ever found a more profi- 
table companion than Socrates, I deem that man the 
happiest of human kind.^^ This celebrated ancient 
general and scholar, in thus speaking of his friend, 
utters but a truthful tribute to the virtue of friendship, 
as exemplified in the life of every honest man. 

The man who has well improved his heart becomes a 
fit companion for all, whatever may be their condition. 
He views the actions of men through the medium of 
his generous virtues, rather than through that rigid 
severity which accompanies an unforgiving temper. 
His noble charity recognizes a universal equality, and 
whilst he bears with the errors and follies of those 
around him, he seeks to remove them by generous 
appeals to the heart rather than by censure and rough 
rebuke. He remembers that the tender entreaties of 
his mother, and the lamentations of his wife and chil- 


AN KtSSAY. 


129 


dren, prevented Coriolanus from destroying the Eome . 
that had formerly banished him, and not the fear of the 
Romans nor their tempting overtures; and that after- 
wards the moderation of Yalerius Coitus, the Dictator,^ 
quelled a dangerous mutiny, and accomplished, perhaps 
a similar end. He is not prone to look upon every 
ejror as a serious crime to be resented, but prefers to 
act upon the magnanimous dictum accredited to the 
Chinese philosophers, who “ reckoned it a true mark ot 
a brave, and wise, and worthy man, to put up the hurts 
and affronts he received, without any inclination to 
harm the author.’^ When it becomes necessary to 
punish a villain, he prefers the example of Pericles, if 
circumstances allow it, who, it is said, endured the 
ribaldry of a rogue for an entire day, without exhibit- 
ing anger, and then commanded a servant to light 
him home with the torch: thus, perhaps, taking the 
most rignal vengeance possible, for none can pa- 
tiently bear such generosity and silence from him 
whom he hates, and with whom he desires to quarrel. 
In the wide range of human blessings there is none to 
equal those generous impulses which govern the con- 
duct of such a man. They enable him truly to fulfil 
the destiny of his affections, in whatever station he 
may be called, despite the circumstances calculated to 
arouse his passions and excite the evil elements in his 
nature. 


130 


HiCCOKDS. 


They who have well cultivated the heart’s true sensi- 
bilities, find the means and sources of enjoyment 
spread lavishly around them. The fickle and whimsi- 
cal pursuits after momentary pleasure, which vex and 
perplex so many, never disturb their quiet nor encum- 
ber their repose. The happiness that attends them 
is unalloyed, not subject to the regrets of disappoiift- 
ment, nor the frequent remorse which preys upon the 
mind of him who had haunted the glittering pleasures 
of animal life and its enticing enjoyments. They feel 
the full gratification of the inward sense, which is sin- 
cere, penetrating, and permanent. The store upon 
which they draw is exhaustless. Other elements of 
nature may perish by too frequent use, but the sensibi- 
lities of the heart only increase in strength and vigor 
through every occasion that calls them forth, and expand 
the more the more they are exercised. It is use that 
preserves them : slothfulness is their great and formida- 
ble enemy. All virtues,” says an ancient Grecian philo- 
sopher, depend upon exercise and use; to preserve 
them, we must practice them.” 

The career of man often presents melancholy illus- 
trations of the want of this true sensibility. The 
aims of life, too frequently governed by the arbitrary 
decrees of society, lead him into paths that rather 
blunt than encourage it; and he finds little substantial 


AN ESSAY. 


131 


pleasure in fulfilling n destiny wldch circumstances 
have forced upon him against the better qualities of 
his nature. Fortune may have smiled upon him^ en- 
riching him with her bounties, yet these, if simply de- 
pending upon themselves, soon sicken and lose their 
interest. The riches of the soul can only be enjoyed 
through the sensibilities of the heart, which lead us to 
the performance of deeds of truth and charity. They 
alone can enable us to discharge the mission of sympa- 
thy and love towards the unfortunate and distressed ; 
they alone can qualify us for generous and magnani- 
mous intercourse, with those whose evil destiny de- 
serves our kind indulgence, and fit us for more exalted 
association with equals and superiors; they alone can 
develope the good germs in our nature into exceeding 
excellencies, and lead us to true virtue and its exhaust- 
less treasures; and they alone can make the journey of 
life resemble a smooth and even surface j and surround 
us with pleasures and comforts which the insensible 
may never know. How much, then, is it our duty to 
cultivate the heart through the exercise of its sensibili- 
ties, and thus obtain the full gratification of every vir- 
tuous faculty in our nature ! How much, then, does it 
behoove each of us to conquer the sordid and selfish 
motives too frequently engendered by surrounding in- 
fluences, and bring into more -healthful existence those 


133 RECORDS 

noble affections -with wbich we are endowed ! Thus 
alone can we truly live in mind and heart, and effect a 
happy harmony between soul and body — no longer veri 
fying the saying of Theophrastus, that the former pays 
iarge rent to the latter for its dwelling. 


i 


> 


A PREFACE, 

MADE BT THE SECEBTAET. 

■ • •“ N 


The following paper was read at a full meeting of the Junto, 
and listened to with considerable attention: not more than a 
dozen falling into a nodding doze during its reading. I 
was at a loss to account for this interest, not knowing 
whether to ascribe it to the style of the composition or to 
the manner of the reader, who frequently indicated his de- 
light, though perhaps at the expense, of his charity, by his 
insinuating emphasis of particular sentences. To be relieved 
of my perplexity, I addressed the inquiry to a gentleman 
seated near me, upon whose face I noticed a savage scowl, 
which had probably been occasioned by his having heard too 
accurate a description of his own character. Turning to- - 
wards me, perhaps with the view of ascertaining whether 
there was not a double meaning in my query, he gruffly 
replied: “Neither style nor manner; but scandal, to be sure: 
the drowsiest cur will prick its ears at scandal — the slug- 
gard, be he never so sluggish, never gapes when furnished 
with a dish well seasoned with its venom.” That he was 
correct in this, I shall not here venture to record an opinion ; 

' 12 133 


N 


134 


KECOKDS. 


but certain it is, that at the conclusion he was the loudest 
in applause of Peter’s dream* and the first to declare that 
“it was not all a dream.” Notwithstanding this emphatic 
declaration, however, it was soon ascertained, upon ques- 
tioning . the gentleman who had introduced the paper, that it 
was, of a verity, what it purported to be. "He had received 
the manuscript of a friend, who had heard every inci- 
dent therein related from Peter Easy himself, and could 
not be mistaken. This seemed to satisfy the curiosity of 
each, and it was therefore generously decreed that the 
“Dream of a Loafer” should be allowed a place amongst the 
records of the Association. 

S- 


•Y. 


THE DREAM OF A LOAFER. 


It lias often been matter of surprise to me, that tbe 
important and truly pbilosopbio individual upon whom 
the community has generously conferred the title of 
loafer, should frequently be so little appreciated as 
to receive no higher encomiums than such as he may 
be able to extract from a laugh or a sneer. His title, 
is certainly one of dignity and distinction, and 
although many efforts have heretofore been made to 
change it, and substitute the more refined and aris- 
tocratic appellation of gentleman of leisure,^^ he has 
ever, and very properly, in my opinion, indignantly 
resisted such invidious encroachments upon it. He 
has thoroughly examined its derivation, and fully in- 
vestigated its import, with all of which he has no 

reason to find fault, and therefore remains perfectly 

\ 

content. 


( 135 ) 


136 


RECORDS. 


That the loafer is a meritorious personage, one fact 
alone should he sufficient to satisfy the most doubting : 
he is always emphatically a self-made’^ man. By care- 
fully studying excellent examples, which have been 
increasing ever since the world began, and to which 
we are promised many more bright additions, he sel- 
dom fails to attain a great degree of perfection. Un- 
fortunately, our civilization prevents him from secu- 
ring that renown to which he is fully able to establish 
a just claim, and which had generally been freely 
granted to his first predecessors. Should he presume 
to live, as it is reported of our primitive ancestors, upon 
hrusks and acorns, we would quickly pronounce him a 
madman, if for no other reason than because this 
would demonstrate that he differed from us in taste, 
or was blessed with a better organ of digestion ! 
Should he diet upon raw beef, employ his naked 
fingers and the hollow of his hand in preference to 
the many table articles invented for our convenience, 
and now constantly used, we would soon think it an 
act of charity to confine him in some lunatic asylum, 
instead of immortalizing him as a philosopher ! Civil- 
ization, so much admired for the many comforts it has 
brought with it, has thus resulted much more to his 
injury than benefit. If the dial of time was set back 
some two or three thousand years, he is perhaps the 


137 


I^REAM OF A LOAFEB. 
only one who would not lose by the change. In truth, 
civilization and enlightenment, though he does not 
deny that they have greatly henefitted others, are his 
most formidable enemies. It will therefore be seen 
how unreasonable and ungenerous are those who con- 
demn him for doing nothing to advance either. These 
elements of modem society have been the great cause 
of inducing many to doubt his usefulness, whilst they 
have even impelled some seriously to question the ne- 
cessity of his existence. In proof of this, I may here, 
state, that I once had a very inquisitive and philo- 
sophic friend, now for several years gathered to his 
fathers, whose death, it is said, was occasioned by too 
close mental application in efforts to ascertain the use- 
fulness and necessity of a well-known micher, who was 
constantly to be seen at the village tavern. Such, I 
have been assured, was the precise statement of his 
physician, who likewise added, that he might perhaps 
have survived, but for the many perplexing difficul- 
ties suggested to his mind by the old command of 
the apostle, ^Hhat if any would not work, neither 
should he eat.’^ This entire statement, however, was 
much questioned ; but then, those who doubted it, in- 
variably remarked that the doctor, having so well 
doctored my friend that he quickly died, had less re- 
gard for the tmth than solicitude for his professional 
12 * 


138 


HECORDS. 


skill. This involves the whole matter in uncertainty, 
where I must leave it, not because I belong to the 
school of the Pyrrhonists, those lying doubters of old, 
but simply because the subject is too intricate, and 
might perhaps prove as fatal to me as the one be- 
fore alluded to did to my worthy friend. Whatever 
may have been the cause of my friend’s death, we 
must feel sorry that, if he was engaged upon so ser- 
viceable a work, he was not permitted to complete it 
and present the result of his labors to the world. 
The information might have proved of considerable 
benefit to the philosophically inclined. Indeed, if he 
had removed all possible doubt of the usefulness of 
such individuals, and shown the real necessity of 
their existence in our society, a very difficult problem, 
I must own, would have been solved. Such a favor- 
able solution, too, would have afforded much consola- 
tion to all of that class, and might even have caused 
a great increase of their number. Of one thing, at 
least, I am certain : it would have confirmed still 
more, if such a thing be possible, the habits of an 
acquaintance of mine, who resides in the same 
village with me. He is known to the' villagers by 
the designation of Easy Peter, but always writes his 
name, whenever you can induce him to perform so 
much manual labor, Peter Easy. He is descended 


DREAM <!)F a loafer. 139 

from a family whose lineage has been traced to the 
Welsh and G-ermans, of which stocks he is extremely 
fond of boasting. This, to me, seems simply to illus- 
trate an excellent trait in his character, for it exhi- 
bits the respect he entertains for his forefathers. 
Some of the villagers, however, ascribe his boasts to 
vanity ; declaring that he is as vain as a woman, and 
that if mythology had no Narcissus, he would furnish 
it with an excellent one. That these are much out 
in their reckoning, I am well persuaded; for should 
he become so enchanted with the loveliness of his 
figure as to languish to death at the fountain in 
which it might be reflected, they would be the first 
to attribute his demise to sheer laziness, — a disease, 
which, fortunately, is not very fatal, otherwise epi- 
demics would never cease in the world. 

Easy Peter may at all times be seen in our village. 
If he is not found at the old log tavern at its eastern 
end, you are certain to meet him at the tobacco 
house at its western extremity, where two smoky 
youths have for several years been engaged in ‘‘ roll- 
ing up” the weed into form for the enjoyment of 
its devotees. I believe it is the universal experience 
that all of Peter’s excellent habits possess a great 
proclivity for places of this kind. Whether this may 
be owing to a desire for idle associations, or simply 


140 


KECORDS. 


to a lovo of the articles retailed there, I am not well 
qualified to decide; hut whatever may be the cause 
operating upon Peter, he has a peculiar afl&nity for 
these two places in our village, at which his enthu- 
siasm and verbosity frequently amuse and occasionally 
astonish his auditors. It is true, no one seriously 
apprehends that any modern Festus will ever impa- 
tiently accuse him of being made mad by ‘‘much 
learning,^^ however prolific he may be in his speeches. 
He is in no such danger, nor is it probable that he will 
ever earn the reputation of being wise simply through 
being boisterous, although many have done so before 
him. Always referring to the generous liberality 
ascribed to Socrates as an illustration how men should 
use their knowledge, he even seeks to surpass this much 
renowned ancient philosopher, whom he recognizes as 
his worthy model, in the lavishness with which he 
dispenses whatever he may happen to know. This, it 
must be acknowledged, is not so exceedingly much ; 
but then he always mixes it with a marvellous amount of 
useless verbiage, principally drawn from his imagi- 
nation and his dreams. Herein, it will rOadily be 
conceded, he is not at all singular, and only plays 
a part for which the times furnish innumerable ex- 
amples. The inhabitants of the village are all per- 
fectly acquainted with him and his habits, and he 


i>KKAM OF A LOAFEll. 141 

has therefore long since ceased to disturb them, not 
from any reasons of his own, but simply because they 
have learned not to heed him. It so happens, how- 
ever, that we are not unfrequently visited by stran- 
gers, and these invariably stare with amazement when- 
ever they encounter him at either of his favorite places 
of resort. It maybe supposed that in these magnan- 
imous efforts to entertain all who can be induced, 
from curiosity or other motives, to while away an idle 
moment with him, he should naturally indulge in de- 
nunciations against the world and its practices. This, 
I must confess, is an inference not in the least repug- 
nant to his habits; but then he never finds fault from 
the mere pleasure of doing so, in which he is so very 
singular, that I must leave it to others to determine 
whether he is in advance of the age or behind it. 

Shortly after the hour of *noon, on a certain summer 
day which will long be remembered in this locality 
because of its excessive heat, a, young and sprightly 
farmer chanced to visit the village. His entrance 
seemed to be regarded as an event somewhat remark- 
able, for so dull was the season that no strange face 
had been seen by the villagers for several weeks. 
Upon arriving at the tavern, having been curiously 
stared at by the occupants of every building he had 
passed, he encountered Peter, who immediately entered 


143 


KKCOKDS. 


into heterogeneous conversation, if that can be called 
conversation in which the talking is all on one side. 
I will here venture the opinion, though cautiously, that 
it may, for custom seems to have so decreed, and with 
few things has custom had more to do. Having in- 
vented no new word fully adequate to the occasion, 
and sufficiently expressive, we are led to submit to its 
long continued acquiescence in the one now employed. 
Then, too, excellent talkers could never consent to 
change this form of expression for any other less cre- 
ditable to themselves, and the good listener may find 
sufficient to reconcile himself to it in the remark of 
old Simonides, who declared that he had frequently 
repented of having said too much, but never of 
having remained silent. Notwithstanding the ap- 
parent determination to exclude the possibility of a 
stray word from the new comer, Peter’s conduct had 
something of novelty in it to the stranger which at 
once induced him patiently to listen. Of course, this 
attention was highly pleasing to the talker, for several 
weeks had been a very long period for him to remaih, 
on account of the dullness of the season, in that silence 
to which the villagers had doomed him by common 
consent, under the impression that time spent with 
him was unprofitably and irretrievably cast away. 
When, therefore, he was invited by the young man to 


/ 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 143 

a seat in liis conveyance^ Peter liad no hesitancy in 
accepting, and not until they had left the village sev- 
eral miles behind, did he ascertain that the stranger had 
no intention of returning to it again. He now first be- 
thought himself of the ridiculous blunder he had made 
in not having informed himself of this fact before, tn 
this sad plight, very sad indeed to him, he slowly dis- 
mounted from the vehicle, and commenced pondering 
upon the best means to get hack -again to the tavern he 
had so incautiously left at the bidding of the stranger. 
To walk so great a distance he would at any time have 
looked upon as an exceedingly laborious task, hut in the 
* awful heat of that day the idea was too terrible to he en- 
tertained. At length he concluded to trust to his luck, 
which had sometimes favored him, although he had 
frequently complained of its hard decrees, thinking 
that chance might perhaps send some conveyance that 
way, through which he could return to the village. 
I should he greatly gratified to he able to say, that in 
Peter Easy I had found the man who never lamented 
over his fate, and who never affirmed that he was the 
^^unluckiest fellow in the world hujb I cannot claim 
the credit of having made so happy a discovery. 
Whether that fortunate individual has ever set a foot 
of real flesh and bone upon earthly soil, is most ex- 
tremely doubtful; yet all will confide in their better 


144 


IlECORI>S. 


destiny, as did Peter in tlie present instance, though 
the certainty of disappointment may seem to stare 
them in the face. Cheered by so comfortable a hope, 
he seated himself by the roadside, beneath the shady 
branches of a ponderous tree, and not feeling just then 
like the young lady who always dreaded to retire to 
bed because she could not talk in her sleep, he was 
soon lazily spread out full length upon the sod. He 
had not been long in this posture, before he. found 
gradually stealing over him a dull and oppressive stu- 
por, which may have owed its origin to a hearty and un- 
digested dinner, for in his case the saying of the wise 
man did not yet apply — slothfulness casteth*into a. 
deep sleep, and an idle soul shall suffer hunger.^^ 
Fortunately for him, his father had been a careful and 
judicious man, and thus placed him beyond the calam- 
ity of the latter portion of the proverb, which his 
habits might otherwise have reaped ; and I much ques- 
tion whether he had ever been so blessed as to real- 
ize the truth of the former by experience. In this 
state of unconsciousness, verging unto sleep, he had a 
dream, which he has since so often related that it must 
be very widely known. At least, such is the infer- 
ence of the villagers, who suppose that it has been 
honored with frequent repetitions by some of the 
many strangers who have visited the village since this 


DKEAM OF LOAFEH. 


145 


eventful- day in Peter’s life, none of whom could 
escape hearing it either in whole or by parcels. I 
shall here endeavor to narrate it, though conscious 
that much of its effect must necessarily he lost 
through the absence of his manner and gestures, which 
no human skill could transfer upon paper; nor can I 
give it precisely in his own words, for reasons which I 
must withhold, leaving the reader, however, at liberty 
to supply such as may best suit his fancy. 

Easy Peter, not so exceedingly easy at the time, 
imagined in his dream that some supernatural power 
had suddenly seized him. From whence it had come, 
he could not divine, but it gradually transported him 
beyond the confines of earth into another world. This 
so much resembled our own, that had he awoke here, 
he positively affirms, he should not have been able to 
discover the least difference. He was not as fortunate 
as the man who dreamed that there was no credit to 
be given to dreams and strange ^enough, in his con- 
scious hours, he defends this fanciful excursion of his 
momentary slumber as a substantial truth. It has 
been so effectually impressed upon his mind, that he 
speaks ,of it, not as the deceptive experience of a 
dream, but as a real adventure. The first thing that 
attracted his attention in this new sphere, was the va- 
riety of employments at which he found the people 
13 


146 


RECORDS. 


engaged. A French philosopher declares^ that they are 
mean souls who are so buried in business as not to 
know that the most glorious and principal work of 
man is to live well ; and as Peter gazed upon the con- 
tinual efforts and ceaseless struggles here exhibited, he 
could not refrain from indulging in somewhat similar 
reflections. Scarcely an occasional pause was to be ob- 
served in the general commotion, so intent did each 
appear upon some object that hurried him on. — 
Amongst these eager scramblers, running to and fro 
in hot haste, chasing every chimera supposed to hold 
out a promise, Peter’s eyes detected one who at once 
claimed his entire attention. He was as ugly as a 
Theban sphynx, lean and lank, his very gait giving 
evidence of his cunning and treachery, whilst his 
countenance, if it mirrored what was passing in the 
soul, plainly cried out, Money, money ! at whatever 
cost or consequence, I 'must have money!” A wor- 
thy illustration of the heartless miser, who seeks for 
nothing but the gratiflcation of his insatiable desire, 
he never hesitated to inflict a wrong, or crush a soul, 
to obtain possession of a shilling. The French Yan- 
dille, to save the extra expense of three bleedings at 
three pence each, let out the four and twenty ounces 
of blood at a single operation, thus purchasing his death 
at a sixpence — certainly a very cheap transaction. He 


DKEAM OF A LOAFER. 147 

had his counterpart in this avaricious wretch, who, Pe- 
ter positively affirms, would have add^d another four 
and twenty ounces for the gratification of feasting his 
eyes upon the glitter of a shekel. Had he lived,^' 
said a stranger, ^^in the days of Eumolpus, he would 
have been an excellent subject for remembrance in 
the will of that whimsical fellow, who ordered that all 
to whom he gave legacies, besides his children, should 
receive them upon condition that they cut up his body 
and eat it before the people.^^ ^^Many,^' replied Peter, 
^^have waded through disgust to wealth; and for a 
trifle, he would never have paused until he had 
munched it up entirely.'^ His miserly propensities urged 
him to the violation of every principle, the sacrifice of 
every virtue that happened to come in contact with 
them ; and thus he pursued his daily course, still add- 
ing to his store as he lost of his manhood. How very 
ridiculous it is, thought Peter in his dream, that men 
will grasp and grasp without stopping to ask a ques- 
tion, and thereby only increase the certainty of being 
eventually grasped themselves, by most unwelcome 
clutches, without being allowed the" time to answer 
any. 

Turning from this wretched specimen of humanity, 
Peter recognised another who was no less busy, and 
who seemed as ambitious as Phaeton or Icarus, deter- 


148 


RECORDS. 


mined to set the world in a blaze, or what appeared 
more likely to happen, break his own neck in his aspi- 
ring flights. He knew of no medium by which to be 
controlled, and would even have found pleasure in the 
reputation of being a fool ; but, unfortunately, Hobbes 
spoke truth when he said, that without learning it is 
impossible for any man to be either excellently wise or 
excellently foolish.^^ Herein he was deficient, and the 
number of common fools far exceeding that of wise 
men,^^ as a German author observes, they were rendered 
so general and were so frequently encountered that 
even this prospect of securing celebrity promised him 
nothing. Moved by his ^^wild distemper’^ he forgot the 
realities by which he was surrounded, and in his im- 
petuosity to climb up the crooked ladder of distinction, 
he was hurried to the most extravagant excesses. 
Erostratus, to obtain renown, fired the temple of Diana, 
but the Ephesians, to bury his memory in eternal 
oblivion, prohibited the mention of his name under the 
penalty of death. This individual, if not yet driven 
to such extremities to gratify his passion, could never- 
theless foresee, in the satiric ridicule certain to follow 
his mad endeavors, sufficient cause to ^^go and hang 
himself out of sheer mortification.^^ Such, thought 
Peter, not unfrequently, is the melancholy end of the 
zealot, when his zeal triumphs over his judgment and 
dethrones his reason. 


DREAM OF A EOAFER. 149 

As he was watching the manoeuvres and expedients 
of this not uncommon character, a party of gentlemen 
suddenly intervened between his vision and the subject 
of his gaze. They were all so exceedingly merry that 
Peter felt anxious to join in their sport, and declares 
that he should have done so had he not been deterred 
by seeing one of them slyly and skilfully sliding his 
hands into the pockets of another, where, he quite 
reasonably supposed, it had no business. This was an 
exploit the like of which he had never witnessed 
before ; but having frequently heard of the practices 
of a learned profession, he immediately concluded that 
this cunning villain was a lawyer, so prone are we to 
form opinions from general reputation. He soon after 
discovered his error, however, for the loud hue and 
cry'^ that met his ears, very distinctly informed him 
that upon this world there were pocket pickers and rob- 
bers as well as upon our own, showing that we can- 
not claim these blessings as beloi%ing exclusively to 
us. Inference, thought Peter, is a very uncertain 
' thing, as often unjust as it is mistaken, and he asked 
of himself whether it had ever assigned to him a 
place in the category of rogues. Of this he might 
have been satisfied, for it has not yet been shown 
that any has ever escaped such imputations, and we 
can only be surprised that so many are foolish enough 
15* 


150 


RECORDS. 


to manifest doubtful anxiety in a matter of wbicb 
each may be so certain. 

Another^ who was hurrying along with all possible 
speed, and whose wild appearance seemed to attract 
general notice, now claimed Peter’s attention. Not 
in the least regarding his late experience, he at once 
concluded that this was a madman,, in which he was 
again partially mistaken. Following after, it was not 
long before he discovered him to be an eminent 
physician, visiting a patient to whom he had the day 
before administered a dose, and who was now in his 
last agonies. A wretched, bungling quack ! a quack, 
sir,” exclaimed a young physician, who became irri- 
tated at our dreamer as he was declaiming upon this 
portion of his dream. Perhaps,” replied a stranger, 

the people of that sphere are stupid enough to follow 
the practice that caused the uncivil jest of Fabius of 
Bentivoglio, who, on his way to manufacture a doctor, 
by chance espied an ass yawning with open mouth 
as if he were laughing. To whom, ^ why laugh you,’ 
says Fabius, ^you silly creature? we can make you 
a doctor too, if you have but money.’ ” However this 
may have been, the great haste uf. the physician was 
matter of surprise to Peter, who could not understand 
why a professor, whose business it was to assist people 
to get out of the world with ease, should be so much 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 151 

concerned for the life of a single patient. His won- 
der, however, soon subsided upon being furnished with 
reason to believe that the man of medicine was a more 
careful student of the Talmud and the Kabbins than 
of his profession, and that he had not been running for 
the good of the sick, but for his own fee, which was 
of infinitely greater importance. Many a one, thought 
Peter, is rendering service to the devil, even at the 
very time that we may think him engaged in works of 
superior excellence. 

Easy Peter now lost sight of the physician, but his 
place was filled by a straight, slender, and serious 
looking individual, who was holding forth in a mag- 
nificent building, which had evidently been erected 
with a due regard to lodging accommodations. It re- 
quired nothing beyond what he saw to inform him 
that this was a preacher in his fashionable temple, 
Peter had seen few men, notwithstanding his extensive 
intercourse with the world, who had the faculty of 
assuming so saintly an appearance as this one, and he 
therefore determined to follow him home. The holy 
man had scarcely descended from the pulpit before 
Peter saw an illustration of how much easier it was 
to preach humility than to practice it, and felt how 
few, even of the priesthood, really understood the say- 
ing _of the essayist, that ^^the souls of kings and 


153 


RECORDS. 


cobblers were cast in the same mould/' To show 
obeisance to the one, however guilty and degraded by 
vice he may be, is easy, and honorable, and an imi- 
tation of Jesus : to shake hands with the other, and 
seek to reclaim him by magnanimous and friendly fel- 
lowship, is countenancing and encouraging publicans 
and sinners/' To greet with the pleasant social smile, 
and the exhibition of generous solicitude, the poor 
and ragged parishioner, is changing religion into levity, 
and walking in the counsel of the ungodly, and 
standing in the way of sinners:" to fawn upon and 
court the favor and association of the more fortunate 
worshipper, who seldom ever rises from his knees until 
he has planned some new scheme to play the villain 
towards his fellow, is exhorting one another daily, 
while it is called to-day," or taking sweet counsel to- 
gether, and walking unto the house of Grod in com- 
pany." Peter was not a little surprised, upon reach- 
ing the residence of the minister, to discover how 
much better he was fitted to declaim upon the beauties 
of charity than to practice magnanimity and forbear- 
ance in his own house. This, thought he, is not the 
only one. who, to obtain skill in lecturing the public, 
exercises himself at the expense of his family’s com- 
fort and happiness. 

Peter became interested in the private habits of this 


DRE^M OF A LOAFER. 153 

reverend gentleman, and would gladly have remained 
to ascertain yet more ‘concerning them, hut being un- 
able to direct the course of his dream, he was unfortu- 
nately compelled to follow a melancholy creature who 
happened just then to cross his dreamy path. True, 
he had somewhere read or heard that melancholy men 
were naturally endowed with greater genius than those 
blessed with more volatile dispositions, and he theijp- 
fore expected to gain from this new subject what he 
had missed by losing the other. He was led to a 
large and splendid establishment, which he regarded as 
being certainly much better calculated to produce 
comfort and happiness than melancholy. He had 
scarcely entered, before he heard a harsh, shrill voice 
re-echoing through the house, and when the terma- 
gant, who seemed to have inherited from nature a 
perfect right to its possession, made her appearance, 
he could not help repeating to himself the proverb of 
Solomon, It is better to dwell in a corner of the 
house-top, than with a brawling woman in a wide 
house.^^ ^^What an excellent Tatianian he would have 
made,^' remarked a pert young lady of the village, 
who would sometimes honor Peter with a few moments 
of her attention, and to whom the thought of such 
unfortunate husbands always afforded matter for merri- 
ment. ^^Why so?^^ anxiously queried Peter, who 


154 


RECORDS. 


could not fattom her meaning. Because they main- 
tained that all, except themselves, were damned 
through mother Eve, and that women were made by 
the devil, to the latter of which tenets your hen- 
pecked vision could no doubt have sworn with the 
strictest of the sect.^^ ^^Notwithstanding such were 
their origin, we would treasure them,'^ added another. 
^^Proving,^^ replied she, ^Hhat the gifts from that 
quarter are preferred, and that there is no justice in 
your complaints when the penalty is to he paid.^^ 
Peter was naturally somewhat sympathetic, and would 
gladly have condoled with this melancholy man in his 
affliction, hut the domestic pest kept too strict a watch 
to permit it. He apprehended the consequences 
likely to follow, should he presume too much, and 
therefore wisely concluded not to cause the reigning 
Spirit of the mansion to ^^pass still more the equili- 
brium of her balance.^' He reflected how indiscreet 
it is to interfere in matters of this kind, and remem- 
bering the advice of the old poet, he thought it judi- 
cious not to disregard it ; 


“ Have pity on yourself, and, though you’re stout 
As mastiff breed, don’t take a bear by th’ snout.” 


As a spectator, Peter Easy would not have objected 
to remain in this splendid establishment of domestic 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 155 

misery, with the view of obtaining some practical 
knowledge of matrimonial life. He had not ventured 
out of single blessedness himself, for which he never 
gave any other reason than that he had been predesti- 
nated a bachelor. In this he was believed by many 
of the villagers, but others continued to maintain that 
his single blessedness was simply owing to his aversion 
to the trouble necessarily encountered in visiting and 
courting for a wife. To this he would only reply, that 
although he could not, like the old Thracians and 
Assyrians, rise from his bed in the morning, attend 
the market with his purse, and return in the evening 
with one of the fairest and most enchanting maids in 
the kingdom ; nor cooly exchange, for a lovely and be- 
witching partner, one hundred and twenty pounds of 
tobacco, cash,^^ the value of the best article, as was the 
practice of his good-natured ancestors, he yet lived in 
an age affording equal if not greater matrimonial facili- 
ties. ^^Now,^^ he would declare, ^‘no little of the 
labor of visiting and courting is voluntarily assumed 
by the ladies themselves, through ten thousand modest 
expedients which their ingenuity has invented; and 
should this prove insufficient, why, it is the easiest 
matter in the world to pick up a wife on any day of 
the year upon any highway in the country.^' Conclud- 
ing his bachelor prejudices to be real, they quite natu- 


156 


RECORDS. 


rally induced him to believe that in the domestic 
affairs of this magnificent mansion, he could see the 
fruits and consequences of marriage in their true and 
proper light. Fortune, however, was inclined to deal 
more favorably with him, and his attention was 
arrested by a handsome young man who hurried from 
the building as if anxious to escape the unpleasant 
sounds of the voice within. Peter followed him as he 
walked leisurely and contentedly along, until he came 
to his residence, which was a small, yet handsomely 
arranged and neatly furnished building. As the 
young man opened the door, his pretty young wife 
was the first to meet and welcome him with her 
cheerful countenance and happy smiles, and then they 
so lovingly embraced each other, that PetePs heart, 
though long a stranger to such feelings, impulsively 
began to respond to theirs. He turned away, perhaps 
to check its beatings, but now affirms he did so simply 
to resolve this astounding mystery; for it was his firm 
conviction, based upon his own extensive observation, 
that marriages were formed with no other design than 
that of providing for the parties a proper and conveni- 
ent person with whom to fight and quarrel whenever in- 
clination prompted. It was well to turn away,’^ replied 
the pert young lady before alluded to, for your eyes 
should never be permitted to feast upon so holy a 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 157 

scene. Like all of your bachelor kin, you ‘ are not 
worthy to see a man first in the morning/ as the say- 
ing of the Benjins used to have it. The unhappy 
Dido, who pronounced you a pack of brutes, spoke 
only the truth ; and you deserve no better fate than 
that decreed by the Spartan ruler, who ordained that 
all of your species should be excluded from the sports 
and dances of the women, and compelled to run up and 
down the Forum, unclad and freezing, singing songs 
in dishonor of themselves.^' Surely," replied Peter, 
rather than endure so rigorous a discipline or pun- 
ishment, each of us would follow Luther's jest, and 
carve unto himself an obedient wife out of a block of 
stone ; or if that would not suffice, perhaps profit by 
the example of Henry YIII., and ^put his neck into 
the yoke, as the only remedy,' though the spouse pro- 
vided for him should prove to be nothing but ^ a great 
Flander's mare.' " When Peter again looked upon the 
young couple, they were comfortably seated together, 
and both seemed still to enjoy the ^Hender caress" just 
as much as they could have done in their wooing days; 
but this was so contrary to .his previous observation, 
and so conflicted with his theory, that he sadly misin- 
terpreted their conduct. He had forgotten the advice 
of a friend who had repeatedly warned him against in- 
discriminately venturing opinions upon matters con- 
14 


158 


RECORDS. 


cerning wliicli he was entirely ignorant, lest he might 
find frequent cause to repent of his errors; for should 
he happen to he right once in a hundred times, he 
would certainly be more fortunate than the rest of 
mankind generally are. He accordingly gives it as his 
settled opinion, that these two visions of his dream 
were so addicted to such demonstrations of affection 
that they could not avoid indulging in them, nor be 
very particular towards whom they were exhibited. 
Such practices, Peter declares, are so very common; 
and he even presumes to account through them for the 
habits of tenderness which some married people hap- 
pen to acquire. He could, therefore, not well decide 
which were the most blessed — this apparently well 
satisfied couple, or the pair he had seen at the splen- 
did mansion, under the lowering of a domestic storm. 

When Peter emerged from th^ cottage, he came 
into a dreary street, studded with rows of dilapidated 
houses on either side, each of which seemed to give 
ample evidence of the wretchedness existing within. 
Here ho encountered three ^^ministers of mercy,^^ who 
visited this locality on pretence of relieving the wants 
and distresses of the people. Their holy mission at 
once arrested his attention, and claimed his regard. 
How happy the influence of charity, reflected he, com- 
ing like the sweet sympathy of angels to bless this suf- 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 159 

fering community. It was a maxim of Plato, that the 
^^end and aim of all human actions is some good;’^ 
and in no other channel can more he accomplished than 
in the one in which these seemingly worthy men 
appeared to be engaged. Who can ponder upon the 
mission of the noble vivandiere, the providence of the 
French soldier, as he sees her following the camp-, ex- 
tending to the weak and weary, the disabled and 
fatigued, the hand of help and hospitality, without 
feeling how small are all things compared with human 
sympathy and love? Her self-sacrificing and sublime 
benignity, — attending the rough warrior in his danger, 
relieving him when in want, aiding him when in dis- 
tress, ministering to him in sickness, tenderly raising 
him when he falls upon the field of carnage and provid- 
ing a place of safety, binding his wounds with her 
salves, her balsams, and her rolls of soft linen, and 
freely sharing her delicacies, her smiles, and her good 
wishes, — gives us a foretaste of that eternity of bliss 
which shall be the just reward of the good, after a 
separation from the blighting struggles, and conten- 
tions, and jealousies of human life. How’ well for the 
world were each a vivandiere, alike in peace and in 
war ! What suffering would be driven from our midst, 
what misery averted, what wretchedness reclaimed, 
what happiness dispensed around ! Peter imagined he 


160 


RECORDS. 


here saw an imitation of her example, and it acted like 
a charm upon his easy nature. How sad, then, was 
the sudden change of his feelings when he discovered 
his mistake, and ascertained that these were nothing 
hut shrewd pretenders after all, who had succeeded, by 
cunning and hypocrisy, to secure somewhat of a reputa- 
tion for honesty and charity. Affecting religiously to 
help the poor, they were only magnanimously helping 
themselves, at the expense of the little generosity left 
in the community. How often, thought he, do people 
obtain credit for possessing a ^"big heart’^ just because 
they have none at allf 

Peter was no longer inclined to follow these unwor- 
thy administrators of the public bounty, and turning 
round he beheld a small, hump-backed individual, who 
at once excited his interest. There was something pe- 
culiarly repulsive in this man’s countenance, which 
invariably prompted all who came in contact with him 
to put their hands into their pockets and their fingers 
upon their purses. Peter was not long in ascertaining 
that he was a broker and usurer, who, following his 
profession in the midst of these poor and humble 
creatures, seemed to fatten upon their poverty as does 
the vulture upon its unfortunate prey. Whenever 
Peter relates this incident of his dream, he declaims 
with all the vehemence he possesses. These 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 161 

inhuman and unfeeling wretches, he declares, are the 
most formidable servants of the devil, and always in- 
herit his qualities to so eminent a degree that no 
stranger could distinguish the servants from the mas- 
ter. As the hawk pounces upon the helpless and 
trembling little sparrow, they fasten their greedy talons 
upon the tatters of a ragged dress with inextricable 
clutch j and as the savage beast licks the gore of its 
victim, they suck the blood of theirs until crimson to 
the dewlap and purple to the elbows. Pandora let 
loose her horde of evils to trouble the world, said the 
heathens. The Christian acknowledges that God has 
not so restricted the power of Satan as to prevent him 
from sending his scourges upon the earth, of which he 
has liberally availed himself by establishing his agents 
in the form of usurers and brokers in every section of the 
world. Of old, they were justly regarded as little better 
than murderers, and decidedly worse than thieves; 
for, says Cato in Cicero, ^^our ancestors enacted in 
their laws, that a thief should be condemned to pay 
double, but an usurer quadruple.^^ The Jew has at 
least bigotry and prejudice, inherited from his fathers 
for nearly two thousand years, to offer as an excuse 
when he robs the Gentile, and yet it is a common say- 
ing, that every day he takes an oath to do whjft he 
can to cheat the Christians but these indiscrimi- 
14* 


163 


KECORDS. 


nately plunder teathen and Cliristian, exhibiting no 
emotion beyond a satanic chuckle over their success. 
They are ravenous pests who speculate upon poverty 
and misfortune, and digest the misery around them 
with savage glee — knaves who, for want of souls them- 
selves, seek to crush the souls of the unfortunate and 
distressed, apparently finding happiness in their ago- 
nies, and nectar in their tears. Ah ! thought Peter, 
wh.at worthy denizens of the pit they will make, and 
what amusement they will afford to their master in 
their efforts to prey upon each other, for doubtlessly 
they will follow their unrighteous trade, as the only 
one fit to be pursued in hell ! 

Easy Peter regarded this as truly an afflicted street 
when he was drawn from the usurer to the rendezvous 
of the speculators. Amid the wretchedness and pov- 
erty of this locality, there was an abundance of ill- 
gotten gain, as he had sufficient opportunity to wit- 
ness. These new visions of his dream had assembled 
for the purpose of making a renewed effort in their • 
swindling schemes, and were engaged in revolving 
their plans with evident satisfaction. Brigands have 
their leaders, pirates their captains, and these, brigands 
and pirates sanctioned by society, had their master 
spirit too. The common bands of freebooters gen - ,} 
erally select as their chiefs the most desperate and 


DREAM OP A LOAFER. 168 

daring ' amongst them — these had elevated* the most 
heartless to equal distinction. Peter watched them 
framing their lies, and fortifying them with plausi- 
bility, and pronounced the loathsome mass a fit dish 
for public gullibility to digest. Here were schemes 
for' particular purposes and special individuals— there 
preparations for each, however large or limited his 
means. Their enterprises had but a single basis : a 
design to enrich themselves, at whatever cost to 
their fellows. This one end had swallowed up every 
principle of integrity, every entity in morals, every 
sympathetic impulse of the heart. The misery and 
distress, the tears, and suffering, and despair, neces- 
sarily occasioned by their deceptions, and frauds, and 
robberies, never disturbed their quiet, but were sim- 
ply regarded as pleasing comicalities to amuse them 
whilst pocketing the "plunder. Homer assures us 
that the profession of the robber was regarded as 
glorious by some of the ancients, and Plutarch in- 
forms us that amongst the Spaniards his exploits 
passed for gallant adventures. Though we punish 
the bold and daring rogue, without making the least 
allowance for his hair-breadth escapes, the treacherous 
plunderer in our midst, who does not even possess 
the redeeming, trait of physical courage, receives our 
countenance and esteem. As Peter was witnessing 


164 


RECORDS. 


this excellent illustration of selfishness and thievery, 
which a credulous people first pay dearly for and then 
honor., their operations were interrupted for a moment 
by the entrance of the Chief, or President of the 
band, in company with a well-to-do • looking indi- 
viOua., on whose arm he was affectionately leaning. 
They had been friends for many years, and through 
the false yet plausible representations of the former, 
the latter soon fell into the snare. Unsuspectingly 
h^ became the victim to their designs, and though 
he left perfectly content, another revolution of the 
earth was certain to find him a bankrupt. It is 
true, reflected Peter, that villany is often disguised 
under the garb of friendship, and where we most con- 
fide suspicion is most required. 

Peter now heard a great noise in the street, and 
hurrying to the place from whence it proceeded, he 
witnessed a grand display of pugilistic skill. What 
had given origin to the quarrel he was unable to 
ascertain, yet so bitter was the rage of the antago- 
nists, who numbered some dozen or more, that it had 
already lasted a considerable time, nor did it seem to 
be in the least abating. There were but two specta- 
tors to the scene, one of whom appeared to be much 
frightened and concerned, and was using 'every per- 
suasion to pacify the heated combatants. The other 


i 


t)REAM OF A LOAFER. 165 

looked calmly on, perfectly composed at wkat lie saw, 
until unable to contain bimself any longer, he ap- 
proached his friend and very mildly addressed him: 

Sir, I crave your pardon for having been amused at 
your generous but mistaken efforts to quell this fool- 
ish quarrel. You must know that there are those in 
this strange world of ours who have totally blunted 
every feeling of refinement, and utterly destroyed what- 
ever moral sensibility they may once have possessed. 
Upon such your honest appeals are always in vain. 
That they should not be entirely placed beneath mor- 
tality, however, Grod has kindly endowed them with a 
physical sensibility, through which you may often suc- 
cessfully reach their depraved minds and obdurate 
hearts. You have appealed to the moral feelings of 
these rioters to no purpose; and now, to demonstrate 
what I have said, let me ascertain what impression can 
be made upon their physical sensibilities.^^ Thus say- 
ing, he threw off a portion of his cumbersome apparel, 
and giving notice that he had watched their proceed- 
ings for upwards of an hour, he declared that the 
battle must now be ended. This proving ineffectual, 
he entered into their midst, and making several (to use 
a technical phrase,) ^^feel the unpleasant weight of his 
fists,^^ he soon dispersed the boisterous crowd. An odd 
mode, thought Peter, of making peace, yet in this in- 
stance a very effectual one. 


166 


RECORDS. 


Immediately after quiet had been restored, the 
street suddenly became very populous, and Peter’s 
attention was arrested by the occupant of a splendid 
conveyance, who was industriously engaged in answer- 
ing the polite recognitions that greeted him from 
" every side. That this was a personage of no little dis- 
tinction seemed so evident that Peter asked of the first 
passer-by what place of trust or honor he filled to such 
general satisfaction. The inquiry simply elicited the 
information that he was a private gentleman, who had 
su'cceeded in amassing great wealth by taking usury 
from the poor, and selling worthless stocks to all whom 
he could deceive into a purchase. He was but one of 
many illustrations of what Juvenal has written, 

That sins alike unlike rewards hare found, 

And whilst this yillain’s hang’d, the other’s crowned.” 


Though every one knew him to he a rogue and a thief, 
the good condition in which his practices had placed 
him, secured public obeisance. What a multitude of 
sins, thought Peter, can be covered by a coach, and 
what monstrous respect we extend to the knave when 
blessed with the smiles of fortune ! 

Turning from the occupant of the coach, Peter be- 
held a singularly ludicrous, but withal a very distressing 
spectacle. A poor, poverty-cursed creature was dying 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 167 

of starvation, wtilst a wealthy gentleman, who had 
been pitying him for days, was tenderly bending over 
him and deploring his great distress, but could not so 
much open his heart as to reach into his well-filled purse 
and draw forth a paltry dollar to give relief. Strange, 
thought Peter, that men will whine, and fret, and la- 
ment, over human misery and suffering, and yet so fastly 
clutch a shilling as not to use it freely in obtaining aid 
and giving succour. 

As Peter was gazing upon this unhappy scene, a 
smiling little, gentleman crossed his path, whom he was 
now compelled to follow. This interesting individual 
appeared to be the friend of all whom he encountered, 
being exceedingly social and affable. His friendly 
greetings were always returned with the same politeness, 
though frequently with much less affection. He had 
acquired a great reputation for benevolence, which so 
elicited Peter's esteem that he was pleased with every 
mark of attention exhibited towards him. It was a 
maxim of the Stoics that men were, for the sake of 
men, brought into the world, that they might assist and 
benefit each other,” and Peter fancied he here saw one, 
at least, who lived up to this magnanimous aphorism. 
This good opinion, however, was suddenly changed upon 
reaching his residence and discovering that he was the 
head of a mongrel banking institution, and so well 


168 


RECORDS. 


adapted to his business that be experience^ little diffi- 
culty in defrauding and plundering bis customers, even 
whilst swearing bow much be designed to befriend them. 
He was extremely pleasant to all in front of the counter, 
and though profusely lavish and exceedingly fair in 
promises, these were only made to afford him amuse- 
ment in devising the most ingenious modes in which to 
break them. He had long robbed the State of its just 
portion of the dividends, used the funds of the institu- 
tion in fraudulent transactions, and placed them out se- 
cretly at usury. After thus plundering thousands, he 
very generously gave a little of the booty in charity to 
the poor. How very easy it is, thought Peter, to win 
a good name, if you hut know how to play the hypo- 
crite behind a fortune. 

When Peter emerged from the bank, his eyes en- 
countered a character whose odd appearance at once 
challenged his notice. He seemed to take the world 
extremely easy,^^ being quite philosophic in his indiffer- 
ence to passing events, yet prided himself upon always 
rendering full justice to mankind, and their good and 
evil practices, their virtues and their vices, their errors 
and their follies. Peter ascertained that he had been 
suddenly raised, by some fortunate occurrence, from ab- 
ject poverty to considerable wealth. The cruel manner 
in which he had been neglected when poor by many 


169 


DREAM OF A LOAFER, 
whose flatteries now daily greeted him, had somewhat 
soured his disposition^ and although he was generous 
to those who had once befriended him, he felt little 
sympathy for the rest of the species. Peter learned 
that he had engaged to give to a stranger, who contem- 
plated removing his residence to that place, some know- 
ledge of the people, their character and habits. Nothing 
could have been more gratifying to Peter Easy, so he 
kept close to his heels until he arrived at the corner of 
one of the principal streets, the place appointed for 
their meeting, where he found the stranger in waiting. 

There, said he to the stranger, as a poor, though 
apparently happy individual passed by, is a personation 
of honesty. With such a man, the old peasants used 
to say, ‘‘ one may safely play at mora in the dark.^^ This, 
however, is a very questionable compliment in our day, 
and has brought him nothing but poverty as his reward, 
than which few evils could be greater under our present 
social organization. Possessed of a good nature, and 
feeling a proper interest in the welfare of his friends, 
he never refused to extend his helping hand, until he 
has been placed in the deplorable condition of being 
compelled to hunt for aid himself. A task, thought 
Peter, which Pluto should have devised for human pun- 
ishment, instead of providing a hades. 

The short gentleman, continued he, who has 
15 


170 


RECORDS. 

just passed, is an honored and skilful follower of a pro- 
fession which has acquired considerable note in the 
world, though now it must be practiced secretly. 
What has occasioned this interdict is not easily dis- 
covered. Should you say to that gentleman that an 
improved moral public opinion caused it, he would 
merrily take your arm, and by leading you to a num- 
ber of highly respectable resorts, soon show you how 
much, at least in practice, the majority is on the 
other side. It is said of the old Germans, that in 
their passion for gaming, they often staked their 
persons upon a die, and if unsuccessful, patiently be- 
came slaves. The world has made of human life 
nothing but an uncertain game, in which the shrewd- 
est cheats frequently obtain the greatest honor. No 
wonder, then, that many who would not purchase 
heaven by a little inconvenience, never hesitate to 
follow in the German’s wake, profiting if successful, 
and enduring if unlucky. That gentleman’s skill has 
thus far saved him. When he first came amongst 
us, one of his bachelor kin was reputed wealthy, 
whilst he was designated as the only heir. Notwith- 
standing his professional practices, which were of 
course not taken into account, he married a most re- 
spectable citizen’s daughter, who had long been angling 
for an heir ; but the bargain has proved an unprofit- 


DREAM OP A LOAFER. 171 

able one after all. His wealthy kin, becoming inti- 
mate with his pretty housekeeper, eventually married 
her — thus establishing a different order of succession. 
Ah, thought Peter, the best laid plans o’ men and 
mice gang aft aglio,” and the foolish dreams of fickle 
maidens often end in a life of good repentance. 

Yonder, sir, is another professional gentleman, but 
his profession is of a different cast. He mistook his 
Calling, ands without possessing any brain, desired 
to become a lawyer, but has failed even to make a 
tolerable pettifogger. I am assured that his teacher, 
who swore that his skull was so ^‘miserably thick” 
that scarcely an idea could be battered into it, con- 
stantly importuned and urged him to venture upon 
some learned profession, having been fully persuaded, 
from observation, that the stupidity which he so 
eminently possessed, was one of the most essential 
qualifications for such an undertaking. I have ad- 
vised him to turn his attention to medicine, as being 
better suited to his calibre, and in which he might 
perhaps prove more prosperous, or at least find greater 
security for his deficiencies. He still clings to his pro- 
fession, however, and having thus far maintained his 
dignity by constant calls upon his acquaintances, he 
is now prepared to cheat them all. A practice, 
thought Peter, quite common, but no one need expect 


173 


RECORDS. 


to pass through the world without contributing his quota 
towards supporting the drones that are in it. 

There, sir, you may rest assured you see a moral 
man. Never mind his rags, for you must know that 
young men, morality, and fine linen, seldom go to- 
gether in this world, where fathers invite libertines to 
their houses, where mothers welcome the attentions 
paid to their daughters by noted debauchees, and 
where young maidens themselves prefer a smile from 
wealthy licentiousness to a nod from virtuous pov- 
erty. Though he is neither Godwardly nor manwardly * 
crooked, which should secure him esteem in a world 
of such great pretence to excellence, he has sufficiently 
experienced that virtue, when contrasted only with its 
present social rewards, is but an empty name, a phan- 
tom, an abject slave, exposed to the insults of fortune,’^ 
as the dying Roman Stoic has declared. He has been 
tempted enough, but relying upon the self-approval 
which has never abandoned him, this has only made 
him a more shining example. I proclaim to you, upon 
better authority than my own, that there is a resting 
place provided for the troubled, and that men like he 
will inherit it. Thanks, thought Peter, for the happy 
prospect of adding another to the names in my little 
volume. [Here it must be explained that Peter had 
long kept a small book, in which he had written the 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 173 

names of all whom he personally encountered during 
his life, and who, he supposed, might stand a respect- 
able chance of profiting hy the exchange of worlds 
to he made at their last gasp; but thus far he had oc- 
casion to call it into requisition only on three several 
occasions. The third time, however, having discov- 
ered his own deception, he used it to amend by erasing 
one of the names previously registered there.] 

You see yonder group of three : the one is a petty 
printer, the other an unscrupulous politician, and the 
third an independent voter. Altogether there is wit 
enough amongst them to make one tolerable fool, and 
heart enough to make one paltry villain. The first en- 
deavors to persuade the public that the second is an 
honest and patriotic citizen, for which he receives the 
common rewards of the political toady : a pleasant 
smile and lavish promises to begin, — a bitter curse, 
worse treachery, and a parting kick, to end; the other 
has already been in ofl&ce for a time, and has stolen 
sufficient for another campaign; whilst the third is just 
preparing to increase his shouts for the good of the 
country, for which he demands a greater indulgence to 
his appetites. The palate is a marvellous channel 
through which to obtain distinction and preferment, 
an easy manufactory of good opinion, extorting pledgeji 

of eternal friendship with astonishing rapidity, and 
15 * 


174 


RECORDS. 


clinching a kind conclusion with emphatic precision. 
The old maxim has it, that ^^you may easily pin down 
a fellow’s nose to a full table/’ and much of the suc- 
cess and distinction in the world has no better basis. 
The aspirant yonder knows full well how to avail him- 
self of this one of our good-natured imperfections, 
and having duped the people once, through its aid and 
the assistance of his companions, this success has em- 
boldened him to make another effort. Beware of them 
all, for though they may be loud in their declamations 
and vociferous in their patriotic demonstrations, they 
still answer Seneca’s description, — their liberty con- 
sists principally in stuffing their bellies” — and may yet 
incur the general ridicule instead of obtaining the pub- 
lic plunder. The most serious public matters, you 
know, are often made the merest farces, and the fre- 
quent promotion of knaves as often incurs no paltry 
penalties, as you may learn from that red-faced indi- 
vidual approaching this way. Mankind,” says an old 
philosopher, are not so happy, as that the best things 
shall have the most patrons and defenders /’ and not- 
withstanding the habits of that officer,' he has been 
elevated to the chief position of this place, and now 
sits in judgment upon all offenders. His first morning 
task is to meet his friends at the Stag’s Head” yon- 
der, his second to feast upon and imbibe the where- 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 175 

with to maintain his ruddy hue^ and his third to reel 
to his office, open his judicial council, and dispose of 
the drunken or offending Creatures who may have been 
taken into custody during the night, not so much for 
ill behaviour as to provide a paltry fee for the police. 
Of course, a police whose rewards depend upon the 
number of unfortunate creatures that may fall into 
their clutches, cannot be remarkably cautious upon* 
whom they exercise their authority, nor measure per- 
sonal freedom by any very exact or liberal scale. No- 
thing beyond the prospect of a few picayunes, thought 
Peter, is required to make men^s vision double, and 
cause them to discover heinous offences where the dis- 
interested and humane only see matter for merriment 
or pity. 

Here comes a peculiar organization of human quali- 
ties. Avarice, prodigality, and falsehood, are that 
man^s principal characteristics — a combination of in- 
consistent vices which make him rather a petty fool 
than a sensible knave, to which latter distinction he 
seems to aspire. To day he will clutch a shilling with 
a grasp so powerful that nothing can extort it, and to- 
morrow he will contract a debt to gratify the most 
paltry vice that may move him. Should he happen to 
get into your debt upon such an occasion, he will not 
be at a loss for lies to evade your demand. When 


176 


RECORDS. 

Maresclialde Eoelielaure was accused of taking part with 
the Duke of Mayenne, he answered the king that he 
did not follow the duke, but his own money, for his 
djpbt would be but in a desperate condition, if«»he did 
not stick close to his debtor.^^ Your tenacity in stick- 
ing close to that man would only extort from him the 
same falsehood a thousand times, and if detected and 
reproached, he would coolly ask you whether you were 
so cursed a fool as to believe him ! He never enjoys a 
hearty laugh, save when he has duped some unsuspect- 
ing individual who may have been induced to con- 
fide in him. You need not be surprised at his 

quick and sudden disappearance around the corner; for 
yonder comes his especial friend, the collector, who has 
caused him to tell more lies than a dozeu of satan^s 
imps could register in a year, and make more clumsy 
dodges than could be chronicled in a volume as large 
as a quarto Bible. Of all dreaded things in our place, 
that collector is the most dreaded. He is a clever, so- 
ciable, and amusing fellow, who first puts you in a happy 
humor by his joviality, and then draws the money 
from your purse before you are aware of it. He was 
quite a favorite a few years ago, his society being uni- 
versally courted, but since he has engaged in his pres- 
ent employment every body dodges and runs from 
him. My dear sir, if you wish to preserve your 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 177 

friendly intercourse with a neighborhood, never become 
a collector ; but should you ever be beset with more 
friends than you know what to do with, I know of no 
honorable process by which you can so easily get fid 
of them as by commencing this troublesome business. 
However brave a people may be, reflected Peter, they 
have never yet had the courage boldly to face a bill, 
and many who had laughed danger in the face, skulked 
like cowards into the darkest corner upon beholding 
the simple shadow of a creditor. 

You observe yonder lynx-eyed individual moving 
slowly along. He sees all that is passing within 
vision around him. His two eyes seem to answer the 
purposes, of a hundred, and are constantly in motion. 
Although everything within their range falls under 
their quick and penetrating scrutiny, they behold 
nothing to admire or to make him glad. They mighty 
well gaze upon an utter blank, and certainly he would 
experience more comfort should they recognise only a 
wide and dismal waste instead of prosperity and hap- 
piness. He is as despicable a victim of envy as the 
world ever saw, which simply moves him to hate the 
success of those around him, and repine at their hap- 
piness. He can only find gratification in their distress 
and joy in their calamities. A tinge of envy, however 
much descried, is sometimes productive of good results, 


178 RECORDS, 

for I have known it to prove an incentive to exertion 
where all else had failed; hut when permanently re- 
tained, it becomes the powerful and fertile cause of 
hypocricies, lies, deceits, treacheries, slanders, annihi- 
lating every good quality in nature, and yet unsatisfied, 
still adding fuel to its evil ones. That man would not 
hesitate to blast the qualities of your brain, merely be- 
cause he cannot bear your superiority; nor would he 
pause to ruin you in your possessions, although he 
should not derive the least profit from it. Whilst, how- 
- ever, he discovers pleasure in the ruin alike of those 
above and below him, he finds a ^Iture in his evil pas- 
sion, which, ^^like iron over-run witli rust, not only 
defiles, but destroys himself continually.^' It is well, 
refiected Peter, that passions which can only experience 
delight in the evil fate of others, should likewise make 
a meal upon their possessor, and that whilst he smiles 
upon the calamities of the unfortunate, his smile 
should be but an expression of his inward torture. 

There you may recognise a bald-pated knave, whose 
age, instead of preserving him from the snares of the 
young, only seems to encourage and embolden him the 
more. He is in company with his son-in-law, to whom 
he once refused to give his daughter's hand in ma. < 
riage, for reasons which he did not care to make known 
either to her or his household. The vigilance and 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 179 

curiosity of those less interested, however, soon suc- 
ceeded in ascertaining them, and the discovery afforded 
no little amusement at his perplexity. The chief 
priests and scribes were not in a greater quandary 
when they had the choice to say <^yea,^^and be convict- 
ed of their baseness, or ^^nay,^' and be stoned by the 
people. He had too often met the aspirant to his 
daughter’s hand at places of resort where none of our 
community who values his moral character is likely to 
go. Peter was somewhat at a loss here, yet he could 
not help reflecting that the father who visits places of 
crime, is in a very ridiculous dilemma when compelled 
to make use of his personal knowledge and his own 
dishonor to preserve the reputation of his family. 

See there— worthy patterns of a gentleman and lady. 
He is an honest and faithful husband, and she an affec- 
tionate and virtuous wife. They love wisely and well, 
live happily in each other, and are models to all who 
know them. Make them your friends, for the very at- 
mosphere in which they move is worth more than all the 
attention a thousand such as have yet passed us could 
bestow. The lord who loves his lady truly, and ever 
keeps unbroken the faith he has plighted to her, becomes 
as much an example to the world as a joy to his wife; and 
the lady who never forgets her affection and allegiance 
to her lord, is so much superior to the common woman 


180 


RECORDS. 


that to him she always seems an angel out of Paradise.^ 
^^An honest man/^ said old Simonides, ^^can have no- 
thing in this world better than a good wife/^ and surely 
an honest woman can ask no higher blessing than a 
good husband. You see such in those two, and may 
well seek their friendship and profit by their excellencies 
of character and correctness of habits. Ah ! thought 
Peter, a happy oasis in the desert of matrimonial life, 
still inspiring reverence for the institution, though it be 
made the fickle plaything of the world, its common game 
of heedless chance and hazard. 

There, sir, in that old man you see an impersonation' 
of prejudice, a quality not inaptly defined as ^^the spi- 
der of the mind, filling it with cobwebs.^^ His opinion 
once set, no power on earth can change it, and beware 
that you press not too closely, lest he adopt the convin- 
cing logic of Frederick the Great, who, it is said, when 
argument failed to enforce his convictions, had recourse 
to kicking the shins of his opponent.^' Guide his 
thoughts into one channel and they will follow it, 
though it should lead him to the devil. His preju- 
dices frequently render him as obstinate as a mule, and 
as often not as wise. He still stands where his fathers 
stood before him, and joined to the idols and follies of 
a past age, he has no sympathies with the present. If 
he thinks at all, he does so simply to fasten upon his 


DREiAM OF A LOAFER. 181 

mind tlie more his cherished errors, and your only pol- 
icy is to ^^let him alone/' Never, reflected Peter, un- 
dertake to straighten the crooked nature of the preju- 
diced man, for to him all your facts are nothing hut a 
stumbling-block, and all your reasons simple fool- 
ishness. 

Yonder lame individual furnishes a story well illus- 
trating the fickleness of the human heart. Though we 
may appear to be enraptured with a single feeling, the 
intervention of a trifling circumstance not unfrequently 
entirely relieves us of it. That gentleman courted a 
fair young maiden, and eventually his attentions resulted 
in a betrothal. An unfortunate accident soon after 
deprived him of a leg, and being thus deformed, his 
love required little time f;o extinguish her affection, 
and accordingly broke her faith. She had bargained 
more for a solid man than a sound head or heart, and 
being disabled from complying with the conditions, he 
was politely rejected. Thus good luck often springs 
from misfortune, and he gained greatly by the loss of a 
limb. What a world of cripples, thought Peter, this 
would suddenly become, could all who desired it be re- 
lieved by the loss of a leg of the ills from which his for- 
tunate misfortune preserved him. 

Turn your eyes to the left, and you may behold a 

\ 

fanciful pair approaching towards us. That pursy and 
16 


183 


KECOKDS. 


apparently very jovial fellow — mine host of yonder inn — 
keeps a resort for gentility, and under the cover of re- 
spectability, sends forth unnumbered evils to infest 
and afflict the community. The practices of his house 
flourish admirably under the beauty of a fashionable 
exterior; yet the pestiferous rottenness within could 
not withstand the eye of modern justice for a moment 
if disguised only in rags. Public morality in the case 
where gold is concerned, is quite a different thing 
from that wherein simple copper is brought into the 
scale. Eespectable crime easily escapes the keen vigi- 
lance of those who guard the public virtue, whilst we 
are loud in their praises when some poor, abandoned, 
Giod-forsaken wretch is hurried to his doom amid the 
imposing show of a high morality and an even-handed 
justice. That man may lavishly spread his fearful 
evils — the only things with which men appear to be 
truly bountiful — with unchecked freedom; and when- 
ever they press too heavily upon us, a few plaintive 
groans will soon arouse the slumbering sentinels of the 
law. Powerful justice will sound its signal, triumph- 
antly make a brutal descent’^ upon some paltry hut, 
and drag its starving inmates to the slaughter. Well, 
has not Carneades pronounced his definitive sentence 
that justice is folly ;^^^and what matters it whether 
I offend, and some more unfortunate creature pays 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 183 

the penalty, so that justice is appeased? It must 
have victims, and fate, ill-fortune, and poverty, have 
not been miserly in providing them. Thus it is 
never at a loss for the means wherewith to preserve, 
that reputation which Tully thought so essential 
^Uhat even those who lived by outrage and villany 
could not subsist without at least its shadow or sem- 
blance.’^ That fortunate knave may prosper in his 
'practices, and though their fatal consequences may 
sometimes arouse our vengeance, there never will be 
wanting those whose immolation will allay it. His 
tall, robust companion is a character — a perfect origi- 
nal. He will hug, and pet, and caress you with the 
tenderness of a captivated maiden, all for a picayune; 
and when he has thus fondled it out of your pos- 
session, having no prospect of realizing more, he 
would as lovingly kick you out of doors for a ha’- 
penny — thus making you as profitable a customer as 
the circumstances could possibly admit. Headlong and 
heedless withal, his actions ever in advance of his 
thoughts, he is a mass of locomotive matter, tumbling 
about on the earth, with no idea to accomplish, no pur- 
pose to fulfil. This is not the only one, reflected Peter, 
who has, by some comical dispensation of nature, been 
placed outside of his orbit, as if it designed to exhibit 
what a fickle whirligig can be made of man by un- 
hinging his directing power. 


184 RECORDS. 

Look to that building yonder. The gentleman who 
has just entered it is a modern reformer. He railed 
against the evil habits of men, and the sinful and dis- 
honest practices of the world, until sent to the peni- 
tentiary for having attached another man^s name to a 
small piece of bankable paper. The imitation was 
good, but unfortunately for him history had chronicled 
the adventures of Saavadra, the famous and some- 
what romantic nuncio of Portugal, and having failed, 
in his mania for improvement, to improve upon this 
noted forger, he atoned for his unsuccessful attempt by 
faithfully serving the full period of his sentence. He 
is now riding his hobby-horse of Reform’^ again, 
with even greater boldness than before. This may be 
owing to the extra courage acquired, or perhaps to the 
change effected in the times, during the period which 
he devoted to solitary meditations. The sledge-ham- 
mer mode of reform has since accomplished marvels 
and become highly fashionable ; but it is now greatly 
feared that many too charitable fellows, in their exceed- 
ingly magnanimous efforts to drive the erring back 
from the brink of perdition, will stand a very excel- 
lent chance of tumbling in themselves. He has aban- 
doned the task of persuading for the more exalted one 
of coercing, which may prove more profitable; but 
should he branch out a second time upon his own 


\ 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 185 

responsibility, it is hoped he may realize his ideas of im- 
provement by choosing some species of roguery where- 
in he shall leave no historical example unexcelled. It is 
no uncommon occurrence of the ludicrous in life, re- 
flected Peter, to see those in whom the ordinary thief 
could not confide, suddenly become reformers, and find 
patrons for their presumption and fools to regard them 
as patterns of moral propriety. 

Note that gentleman and lady opposite. He is her 
husband. Having seen his wife in dishabille the morn- 
ing after his wedding, and meeting her upon his return 
home at noon arrayed for public inspection, it is cur- 
rently reported, he found her so much improved and 
beautified that he mistook her for a stranger, and 
absolutely asked her of the whereabout of his spouse. 
Nature has been exceedingly kind after all. If it has 
ordained that youth should fade, it has generously fur- 
nished the material whereby a century can be made to 
assume the appearance of a score. What matters it 
that old Father Cyprian thought all change the work 
of Satan, and pronounced it running counter to the 
will of Grod to paint or black the h^r, because he had 
read, ^^Thou canst not make one hair white or black 
Who cares for the declaration of Tertullian, that ^^it is 
the devil that mounts the actors on their buskins, in 

order to make Jesus Christ a liar, who has said, that no 
6 * 


f 


186 BECOKDS. 

one can add one cubit to bis stature They were 
both wofully mistaken, and our ladies Have most tri- 
umphantly refuted their errors, by silently exhibiting 
that a hundred Tophets could not supply imps, enough 
to make half the changes and additions which they 
daily parade before our eyes. It is marvellous, reflected 
Peter, what artificial charms can be conjured up by 
those who properly understand the art of beauty; and 
why should they fret and complain against fate, when, 
with paint, powder, and cotton, they are constantly 
proving that their troublesome deficiencies were simply 
meant as so many kindnesses, by leaving them at liberty 
to manufacture whatever hue and dimensions that 
might best please their fancies? 

The young lady and gentleman who have just passed 
by, seem to have arrested your attention. They are 
intimate acquaintances, and it is conjectured they will 
be something more in due time. You heard her indig- 
nant remark upon the dissoluteness of that young 
man yonder, a distant and ill-starred connexion of hers, 
and her emphatic wish for an edict providing for the de- 
capitation of all such reckless creatures. Her creed, my 
dear sir, if impartially carried into effect, would scarcely 
permit a head to remain solidly upon the shoulders of 
a single citizen in the country; and her companion, 
though he does share her virtuous affections, would be 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 187 

one of tlie first to despair for his own. If shrewder 
and more cunning, he certainly is no better than the 
individual who has elicited her censure, though she 
knows it not. Her ignorance is blissful, however de- 
ceptive. Should some superhuman agency, thought 
Peter, suddenly reveal the truthful characters of Cu- 
pid’s followers, how many confiding maidens would he 
startled at having admired the most knavish deceivers, 
and how many foolish swains would stand aghast with 
horror at the dishonest treachery of their lady-loves ! 

In that young man approaching this way, you may 
recognise somewhat of a philosopher. You might as 
well attempt to scale the mountains of the moon as to 
persuade him that there was much real virtue in the 
world. ^‘We are honest,’’ he argues, ^Hrom conveni- 
ence or policy, and apparently moral from a fear of 
society, which has established certain rules, and is 
given to certain general opinions, the violations of which 
are always attended with some difficulties or vexations. 
The old Komans had their censors, whose chief busi- 
ness it was to inspect the morals of the citizens, and 
could we, by following some such example, spread out 
before us the hidden conduct and practices of each in- 
dividual, the little of real conscience and truth, sub- 
stantial honesty and morality, we should be able to de- 
tect, might tempt us to abandon our moral code en- 


188 


RECORDS. 


tirely. Or could we, by a glance, penetrate tbe past 
lives and habits, and scrutinize the secret sins of all 
whom we encounter, what a terrible blushing there 
would be in the world, and how many would laugh in 
each other’s faces ! Many whose apparent honesty now 
claims your respect, unable any longer to disguise their 
hypocrisy, would only make merry over the numerous 
counterparts of themselves with whom they should con- 
stantly come in contact. The virtuous Thrasea spoke 
but the truth in his favorite maxim, that ^ he who suffers 
himself to hate vice will hate mankind / for, although 
all must pretend to virtue from a kind of social neces- 
sity, it is a garment which they cast aside without a 
pause when rendered safe from detection, ever faith- 
fully illustrating the saying of Agathias, that ^ virtue 
upon necessity is just as long lived as the fear that oc- 
casions it.’ The world seems desperately determined to 
vindicate what its Saviour has affirmed, and no prophecy 
promises to be more fully realized than his sorrow- 
ful declaration that ^narrow is the way which lead- 
eth unto life, and few there be that find it.’ ” Such is a 
taste of the young man’s opinions, in which he is so 
firmly rooted, that should you persuade him that the 
fate of the town depended upon ten righteous men to 
be found within it, he would at once take to his heels, 
and never pause until he was far out of danger. Whe- 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 189 

tlier there is not too much of correctness in his 
melancholy views, you must determine for yourself. — 
No very difficult matter, reflected Peter, amid the many 
unpleasant examples that are destined daily to bring un- . 
welcome ,aid to your judgment, and exhibit to your 
gaze so many who seem but to struggle the hardest to 
obtain the greatest curses. 

You will pardon the interruption, said tne stranger, 
but my attention has been arrested by the counterfeit 
manikin suspended by the neck to the branch of yon- 
der tree, and my curiosity efxcited to know what fickle 
whim or fancy placed it there. Its import, replied the 
other, not endeavoring to restrain his merriment, is 
very significant. The female occupants of the adjoin- 
ing houses have for some time been engaged in a bitter 
quarrel. The intolerable scolding propensities of one 
of them, common report avers, caused her husband to 
resort to that efiective mode of obtaining relief. The 
cunning of the c^her, in the progress of the quarrel, 
has devised that silent but expressive expedient as an 
annoyance and remembrancer to her enemy, and by re- 
placing it as often as it is destroyed, promises fair to be 
the conqueror in the end. 

Here you may recognise one of those silly or knav- 
ish creatures, in whom it is difficult to tell whether the 
mule or the monkey predominates. He knows but of 


190 


RECORDS. 


one vice in the world, and it is the subject of his con- 
stant denunciations. He is ceaseless in his praises of 
honesty, and as opportunity makes the thief,^^ accord- 
ing to the proverb, he will probably preserve his repu- 
tation as long as he remains amongst those who know 
him. It is given as a rule, and in case you encounter 
him it may prove of service, always to mistrust the man 
who too much prides himself upon possessing a certain 
quality, and to be suspicious of him who constantly 
deals in vehement complaints against a particular vice. 
Such are generally weak in what they boast them- 
selves strong, and their darts are frequently directed 
against the very fault peculiar to themselves. It is 
so, thought Peter, even with the great world, which 
ever descries its own practices, and yet tenaciously 
continues in them, as if loathe to part with such 
excellent causes to elicit its censure, and such admi- 
rable escape-valves through which its wrath may freely 
ooze itself away. ^ 

There is an amusing and withal pitiable victim of a 
mistake. He was a lodger at a public inn, and rising 
early one morning, he was mistaken for a burglar, 
and received a terrible beating from his hasty and 
suspicious host. To redress this injury, he flew to 
the law — a very singular power to decide upon a mis- 
take. The landlord, not thus to be outdone, brought 


DKEAM OF A LOAFEK. 191 

a more serious charge against him in retaliation. The 
blind Goddess, whose determinations were ascertained 
by two intelligent juries, very magnanimously gave 
each the benefit of the mistake, and both found com- 
fortable lodgings in the county prison. There, thought 
Peter, they had leisure at least to cool their sanguine 
tempers, and refiect upon the frequent tendency of the 
merest trifies to grow into importance. 

Opposite, you may see a genuine specimen of what 
the world calls a “successful fellow.'' He claims to be 
a proper person to reside upon this especial sphere of 
God’s creation, and bases his peculiar fitness upon two 
facts : he is not encumbered with an extra amount of 
conscience, nor is he restrained by any settled prin- 
ciples of virtue — two things, he avers, not well calcu- 
lated to promote prosperity in a world where the right 
and wrong of human actions are so generally estimated 
by profit and loss. He will never suffer.on account of 
possessing too much of either, both of which he re- 
gards as certain roads to poverty, and consequently loss of 
the world's esteem. To persuade you that he is doing 
you a service whilst plundering you, he thinks the per- 
fection of skill and ingenuity. Should he ever tempt 
you to enter into any of his promising schemes, beware 
of his plausible representations, for you may swear they 
only conceal a design to pick your pocket with your 


193 


RECORDS. 


own consent. No very uncommon occurrence, reflected 
Peter, in a world where prosperity is made to depend 
upon a cunning address, and where a shrewd head is 
so much preferred to an honest heart. 

Approaching us, you may see a specimen of that sad 
human depravity so frequently encountered, and whom 
the good morals of the virtuous public have generally 
indulged under the plea of necessity. She was unfor- 
tunate recently in disturbing the peace of a very re- 
spectable locality, and having thus over-stepped the 
bounds of that necessity which tolerated her, she fell 
into the meshes of the law, and gave us rather a funny 
illustration of the melancholy effect misfortune has upon 
friends. Her most punctual visitors, whom she had 
always received so very graciously, perhaps having a 
view to their circumstances and positions in society, 
now repulsed her the most roughly, and gave free vent 
to their virtuous indignation when she presumed to so- 
licit their aid. After experiencing this ingratitude 
and baseness, she became seriously ill from the excite- 
ment; and despairing of being again restored, her re- 
pentant fears set her raving as if mad. Her dis- 
connected revelations were watched with wonderful 
anxiety, affording great amusement to some, and as 
greatly exciting the fears of others; but when she ex- 
piessed it as a Christian duty that a very minute ac- 


DKEAM OF A LOAFER. 


193 


count of her ill-spent life should be given, she caused 
more genuine consternation than could have followed a 
siege of the town. The fearful disclosures of a few 
dozen of her kind, reflected Peter, in each city and 
town of the country, specifically setting forth the names 
of their visitors and lovers, could create more confusion 
than attended the marches of Alexander, and cause a 
panic perhaps only equalled hy that of ancient Rome 
when invaded hy the barbarians. 

Turn, however, from this unwelcome picture, and 
behold that fancy young man yonder. He is too igno- 
rant to be of any service in the position of life to 
which he pretends, and too much inflated with his 
own conceit to render himself useful in a different 
calling. Between these not uncommon qualities, he 
manages to trudge along, cheating his tailor, defraud- 
ing his landlord, and swindling all who may be so un- 
fortunate as to mistake his appearance for respectabil- 
ity and his pretensions for honesty. How such pal- 
pable fools manage to maintain their stupidity upon the 
plunder of more sensible knaves, is one of those inex- 
plicable mysteries of life which few have attempted to 
determine. We have repudiated the rule of Aristotle, 
that only those employments are to be reputed mean 
which render either the body or the soul unfit for the 
practice of virtue; and by making certain pursuits a 
17 


1 


194 KECORDS. 

test of social standing, and tlie neglect of all, a sure 
index of respectability, we bave admirably succeeded 
in rearing a brood of vagabonds whom it would now be 
ungenerous to neglect. Thus, perhaps, they owe more 
to our indulgence and kindness than we are willing to 
acknowledge, being content to endure an occasional 
swindle, and in this silent manner atone somewhat for 
an evil which we have ourselves created. It is so much 
easier, reflected Peter, to tolerate some errors than to 
reform them, and we are happily prepared to submit to 
their inconveniences if they will only do us the kind- 
ness a little to tickle our vanity. 

Look to the windows of yonder houses — two hand- 
some females. You may learn a salutary lesson by 
carefully contemplating their countenances. The one 
has led a life of guilt — the other one of innocence and 
virtue. Look at their smiles : what sadness there is in 
the one, and what satisfaction there seems to linger 
around the other! With the guilty, a smile springs 
only from the lips; with the good, it pleasantly indicates 
and answers emotions of the heart. See how vexed 
and restless the manner of the one, and how easy and 
calm that of the other — a noble contrast between aban- 
donment and graceful dignity. The very bearing of 
the one indicates a knowledge of her degradation, whilst 
that of the other firmly yet modestly asserts her equality 


r>REAM OF A LOAFER. 195 

and her claim to respect. In their loneliness there, you 
may clearly read the thoughts of each mirrored in her 
face. What an expression of languor, regret, melan- 
choly, remorse, agony, despair, you see in the one; 
what quiet repose, comfort, content, pleasure, happi- 
ness, joy, is depicted in the other! See in contrast, a 
spectre of deep, guilty sorrow, peering out from the 
wrinkles and furrows which tell of fearful tempests and 
revulsions within, and a calm placid vision beaming 
forth the life and buoyancy that speak only of the 
sweet serenity of the soul: dark, dreary, desolate 
night, filled with treacheries, conspiracies, murders, 
sprites, and hobgoblins, and bright, mellow sunshine, 
awakening every impulse and arousing every feeling to 
chaste delights ! The terrors of guilt must indeed be 
fathomless, if it mixes a remorseful recollection with 
every smile, and tortures with mental anguish even the 
moments treasured for repose. Excitement cannot 
silence or drive thought from the brain, and retirement 
cannot prevent the soul from shrinking from its own 
pollution. All nature is too weak a fence for sin,^' 
observes an ancient poet, and ^^hell itself can find no 
fiercer ^orment than a guilty mind,^^ remarks another. 
Whatever, reflected Peter, may be the evil practices of 
the world, it cannot avoid the furies which they invoke, 
nor escape the terrors of their revenge. 


196 


RECORDS. 


All ! see my worthy friend approaching. He is a 
preacher, and I believe a good man, who loves his fel- 
lows, and means all mankind well. His head and 
heart, .however, do not work well together — the one is 
as empty as the other is full. Well, if the devout 
Japanese can perform his devotions by machinery, hav- 
ing his cku-hor constantly fixed in some running stream, 
where it never ceases praying for the prosperity of his 
house, why may not we go through ours with equal 
convenience? We are told that our ceremonies sel- 
dom trouble our hearts, and if so, surely there is little 
reason why they should trouble our tongues or limbs. 
Some such reflection, no doubt, has induced our people 
to invefit many fashionable and easy modes of getting 
into heaven, for which they deserve jesting gratitude; 
but then the 'ways of the Lord are inscrutable, and he 
has raised up a brood of stupid, prosey, old-women 
preachers to pest and afflict them. They may make 
the sanctuary airy, or shut out the chill, together with 
their servants, and then snooze ' away on soft, easy 
cushions, just as though it was the most paltry trifle 
to inherit the kingdom; yet the Lord is generous, and 
will frequently remind them of their error by inflicting 
upon them the sermons of such stupid though good 
meaning servants as my friend here. When, there- 
fore, reflected Peter, we rightly understand the uses 


JDREAM OF A LOAFER. 197 

of bad preachers/^ a very common and very equivo- 
cal complaint, they reveal a design the wisdom ' of 
which it is sinful to censure. 

The dumpy individual yonder, wearing the badge of 
authority, is a worthy constable. Like the great num- 
ber of his class, he is an excellent man for his calling, 
wanting both heart and brain, and being consequently 
little troubled with conscience or integrity. Every 
poor wretch, whom misfortune has dragged beneath our 
compassion, adds a trifle to his purse, and immeasurably 
to his glory. Living on the world’s depravity, he seeks 
to deprave it the more, that he may increase the proflts 
of his trade. Under the plea of justice he is con- 
stantly outraging its holy decrees, and instead of pro- 
tecting society, he has become one of the worst of its 
pests. He will boast for hours of his shrewdness, and 
gloat with wonderful exultation over the ruin of a vic- 
tim to his formidable oath. Justice would be fear- 
fully crippled without his excellent eyes, whose vision 
neither doors nor masonry can shut out, and rendered 
almost entirely powerless without his ears, which hap- 
pily possess the sharpness to detect the minutest par- 
ticulars of a crime carried wonderful distances through 
the whispers of the wind. Though a score should sur- 
round him and witness an event, he would hear more 
than their forty ears, and surprise them all at the 
17 * 


198 


RECORDS. 


absolute worthlessness of their eyes, when he came to 
narrate his tale in that convenient arena for the exhi- 
bition of his talents, a criminal court. Like the pan- 
der in Terence, ^Ho have the knack of perjury’^ he con- 
siders a necessary accomplishment, and he never fails to 
bring down his game when once fairly brought within 
the range of his oath. Ah, reflected Peter, how 
many a poor wretch’s fate has depended upon so excell- 
ent a swearer; and no one pitied him ! 

In that slender young man you behold a miserable 
victim to his own base passions. He moves along, a 
loathing disgrace to himself, encountering the contempt 
of all who have not fallen equally low in general 
esteem. You will preserve your reputation by follow- 
ing their example, and carefully avoiding him. His 
evil habits have rendered him so exceedingly infamous 
that nothing less than the sudden acquisition of about 
fifty thousand dollars could make him a respectable man 
in the estimation of our community. Should fortune 
thus favor him, you may consider the interdict removed, 
and gain credit by doing obeisance alike to him and his 
sins. What an excellent badge of character, thought 
Peter, that can work such marvellous changes in public 
opinion, and hide more faults and render invisible more 
defects than the mystic ring of G-yges. 

There is a poor fellow whose head has been turned 


0 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 199 

by not properly inquiring into the good subject which 
engrossed his attention. Running wild in his good 
excitement, he at last fancied he was blessed with ex- 
traordinary power, and for a time labored with exceed- 
ing great industry in casting out devils ! He has now, 
however, abandoned the excellent work, declaring that 
he found so many possessed that his efforts were ren- 
dered entirely useless, and vowing that the harvest is 
•etill as great as it was ages ago, and the laborers equally 
few. No doubt, thought Peter, he who shall undertake 
BO laborious a task, will have little time for idleness, for 
to set all things right for eternity, would require no- 
thing short of eternity itself. 

When nature made that man yonder, it no doubt 
went outside of itself in search of additional material. 
He is a compound too singular to have been made up 
entirely of its own qualities. He practices medicine 
without being able to read; plays the preacher and 
sometimes the prophet, and occasionally acts the petti- 
fogger. By the one he pretends to save lives, souls by 
the other, and property by the third. He prays vocif- 
erously and predicts astounding developments, but 
never pays his debts; he is vehement in his denuncia- 
tions of falsehood, but takes to lying quite naturally 
when it promises a fair remuneration; he deplores the 
errors of the world, and professes infallibly to drive 


soo 


RECORDS. 


away the charms of witches ; he denounces credulity, 
and sees spooks;’^ he is a philosopher, and pow-wows 
until exhausted in breath over all diseases too powerful 
for his remedies. Never entertaining more than one 
idea at a time, he must be ruled by it, no matter what 
it be or to what foolishness it may lead him. To-night 
he may dream of some impossible event or marvellous 
discovery, and to-morrow he will proclaim it as a settled 
fact or superhuman revelation. He is constantly pro- 
pounding schemes to revolutionize the opinions and 
change the manners and practices of the world, and yet 
swears by his faith in predestination. A mass of in- 
congruities, an embodiment of nonsense, he neverthe- 
less finds dupes who, perhaps tired of existence, will 
swallow his prescriptions, meet their doom through his 
prophecies, and go to ruin through his counsel. Well, 
reflected Peter, many a man has prospered, just because 
he was ignorant and stupid, and where wisdom starves 
foolishness must often grow fat. 

Here you may behold a poor victim of misfortune, 
and a melancholy illustration of how much human na- 
ture is capable of enduring. From his boyhood he has 
been forced to encounter the terrors of adversity, and 
submit to the agonies of poverty and want. The 
thumps and cuffs, he declares, originally intended for 
equal distribution amongst several scores, through 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 201 

some sad mistake, have daily been heaped upon his 
single head, nor could he dodge the most trifling bump. 
Unable to counteract his evil fate, he eventually sought 
refuge against it by adopting the life of the soldier. 
Thus flying into the face of his destiny, with the odds 
all against him, he only aggravated it the more, adding 
to J^is miseries and increasing his privations. He has 
figured upon many a field of carnage, but fortune has 
ever refused to send some stray ball to end his career. 
Abbas, the Persian king, to prevent the indignities of 
his misfortunes from falling upon his wives, commanded 
their heads to be cut off in case he lost the battle — 
certainly an infallible preventative. Not being disposed 
to apply so rigorous a remedy to obtain relief, that un- 
happy creature has continued to submit to the fatalities 
he could not avoid, and perhaps there are few evils in 
nature which he has not felt. Though he has won the 
reputation of a brave soldier, it is the only thing he 
has ever gained from his countrymen, save their ingrat- 
itude. He has been to the wars, and returned to beg 
his bread. He has stood a faithful sentinel over his 
country's honor in times of danger, and in its peace and 
prosperity he has hungered and thirsted, and no one 
pitied him. ^ He has grappled with the foe, and been 
victorious : he has fought against his fate, and it con- 
quered him ; yet he is the same old patriot still. It is 




RECORDS. 


said that the enjoyments of life always counterbalance 
its ills, but he can present a tear for every pleasurable 
emotion he has ever experienced, and a pang for every 
impulse of joy that has ever lighted up his soul. 
There is, reflected Peter, a hardness of heart in the 
world which sometimes seems directed against a single 
individual, making his existence a fearful burthen and 
rendering even his hopes a terror to himself. 

See there— an excellent humbug. He pretends to 
science, and under the pretext of enlightening our 
people, he has visited our town. To instruct the pub- 
lic is certainly an honorable employment, but he is a 
miserable preceptor. In the science to which he pre- 
tends he is a marvellous fool, but as an imposter he is 
a cunning knave. Knowing his ignorance, he wisely 
seeks to take advantage of the public curiosity, and by 
working it into a state of itching excitement, he effects 
more for himself than the most consummate skill or 
knowledge could attain. His stupid lectures are nightly 
greeted' by gaping crowds, for which he is solely in- 
debted to the fact, that he has provoked the general 
inquisitiveness through the common and always effect- 
ual expedient — giving private lectures to the ladies! 
Arouse the morbid tastes of a community, and the sil-^ 
liest mountebank will receive its encouragement. 
What a happy and convenient thing is science, reflected 


DUEAM OF A LOAFER. SOS 

Peter, not only furnishing a sufficient excuse for all 
kinds of familiar discourse, but also taking off our 
hands much unpleasant labor by giving currency to such 
magnanimous instructors. 

Here you may recognise an uncongenial creature who 
could not survive a single day without some object upon 
which to exercise his malice. Though he may never 
before have seen you, you may rest assured he will re- 
port you a villain, or something not far removed from 
one. Of course, it is his especial business to know all 
concerning you and your possessions, and his imagina- 
tion will readily account for everything : in such a man- 
ner, too, as to leave you little cause for self-esteem. 
His only true delight appears to be in slander, and he 
would barter heaven for a bit of scandal; yet it were 
folly to endeavor to avoid him, for he is not without 
numerous counterparts whom you could scarcely hope 
to escape, though you should immediately quit the 
town. Should we now, reflected Peter, revive the an- 
cient punishment of the Poles, who publicly forced the 
•slanderer beneath a table and there compelled him to 
bark three several times, declaring that he ^^had lied 
like a dog,^^ what a fearful and terrific yelling and howl- 
ing would suddenly be set up in the world ! 

See yonder — a clever fellow.^^ He has managed to 
store his head with an abundance of old jokes and an- 


a04 


RECORDS. 


ecdotes, whicli, having formed an effectual barrier 
against anything else entering into it, are eve^ at his 
service. His tongue never flags, which may perhaps 
he owing to the light burthens it is required to bear, 
for he never troubles it to give expression to a heavy 
thought or weighty idea. It is said that Tithonus was 
transformed into a grasshopper on account of his incli- 
nation to talk, blit the same propensity has only suc- 
ceeded in converting that man into a liar. He can sing 
a song, whistle a jig, and although he may have talent 
to play a tolerable tune, it must be confessed he plays a 
game at cards with much greater skill. Polite and 
affable, he has the address to pass for a gentleman, 
which, together with a readiness to do their little 
errands and oblige their whims, brought him into great 
favor with the ladies, as you observe he is kindly re- 
cognised by every one who passes by him. He has a 
happy faculty of adapting himself to the company in^o 
which he may be introduced ; and by long practice he 
has become so expert, that he now finds no more diffi- 
culty in entertaining a circle of staid, sober, and inqui- 
sitive dotards with old wives^ fables,^^ than in direct- 
ing some licentious carousal. Amongst the gifts with 
which nature has blessed him, none has proved of more 
service to him than his excellent stomach, which seems 
to be perfect pr(JoPagainst the law of wear and tear.^^ 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. S05 

He can keep you company at the table until you be- 
come stupid, drink your health until you become drunk, 
and then coolly furnish you with a lying excuse to 
avert the threatening frowns or pacify the angry rage 
of your wife. His opinions and his conscience are 
alike pliable, which enables him without trouble to suit 
himself either to your mind or heart, or to both if re- 
quired. He will defend the prejudices and errors of 
the one with true friendly zeal, and commend the good 
of the other with the enthusiasm of a saint, or encour- 
age its wickedness with the skill of a panderer. What- 
ever pleases you will be certain to delight him, and he 
will soon be so assimilated to your tastes as to declare 
you his seaond self.^^ A rioting, roistering life, how- 
ever, best comports with his fancy, and he is constantly 
leading some of his numerous friends into indecorous 
exploits or lawless adventures. He swears the world 
was ^^made for sport,^^ and why should he be as mo- 
rose as an anchorite, or shut himself up like some sleepy 
monk, too -drowsy to brush a fly from his nose? Then, 
too, he is so very liberal — not only generously sharing 
his pleasures with you, but even providing you with 
excellent reasons why you should partake of them, and 
reducing your most heinous offences into common, 
every-day peccadilloes.^^ Are you young, he will per- 
suade you that few faults or vices are so monstrous as 
18 


5306 


RECORDS. 


to be denied a place amongst yontbful follies; and if 
old, wbat could be wiser than to employ the little time 
remaining for you in tbe pursuit of pleasure and enjoy- 
ment ? Freely mingling with all, and never finding 
fault with any, his accomplishments or traits of charac- 
ter have won for him the fine distinction of being a 

very clever fellow, — which to you may mean that he 
is an excellent and worthy man, inclined to society and 
familiar colloquies; whilst to another it would simply 
indicate that he is a silly and amusing clown, or a 
shrewd and cunning villain. Well, though such dis- 
tinction may be highly honorable, it has been courted 
by so many, and is now so promiscuously conferred, that 
I make it a rule always to look with caution upon him 
who wears it, and only trust him in proportion to his 
cleverness. 

Easy Peter heard nothing more, for his attention was 
here arrested by a large, overgrown youth, who was lean- 
ing against a ponderous tree which had very magnani- 
mously been spared from the axe, in the progress of 
improvement, for the benefit of weary and sweltering 
pedestrians. This venerable relic of a past age, still 
standing erect with its extended branches, as if defying 
the inroads of time, had long been a great favorite with 
all the lazy loungers of the place, and its huge trunk, 
to the height of some five or six feet, presented a surface 


S07^ 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. 

whose glistening and greasy smoothness could not have 
been imitated by any tradesman’s skill. Many were 
the changes it had witnessed, both in the old time and 
in the new, and there was not a loiterer within miles 
around whose faults and foibles had not been exhibited ^ 
beneath its sheltering branches. Here the idle person- 
ages of the town would congregate in knots and cote- 
ries, detailing for the thousandth time their dry anec- 
dotes, stale jokes, and wonderful traditions, in many of 
^ich the aged tree itself bore so conspicuous a part 
that nothing but its constant and inflexible immobility 
could have satisfied you that it was not a moving, ac- 
tive, and sensible creature. This happy retreat had be- 
come so very attractive indeed, that many an unpleasant 
and unquiet home was abandoned for its more peaceful 
shades; and numerous were the imprecations uttered 
against it by the ill-tempered dames of the neighbor- 
hood, who, rather than acknowledge a less creditable 
cause in their own tongues, accused the unconscious 
tree of enticing away their husbands to the great an- 
noyance and neglect of themselves. If evil wishes 
could have blasted it, it would not have survived a 
single hour; and there was never a thunder cloud seen 
in the distance which was not hailed with many a prayer 
that the storm might terminate by casting its frag- 
ments and splinters to the winds. Though these vira- 


' SOS 


RECORDS. 


goes could quickly raise terrific tempests around tkeir 
husbands^ ears wliicli never failed to take effect, tke 
thunderbolts of nature bad very wisely been placed 
beyond tbeir reach; and thus they may renew their 
vengeful imprecations and malignant wishes; but the 
venerable tree continues to rear its towering form, and 
their disobedient husbands still take their ease beneath 
its shady limbs. 

It was one of these idle individuals whom Peter now 
beheld, and his appearance sufficiently indicated that 
he had inherited a full portion of the rewards usually 
attending . the habits to which he was addicted. His 
old, weather-beaten hat admirably betokened that it had 
done good service in its time. Although the many 
misfortunes it had encountered, and the narrow escapes 
it had made, left some very visible impfessions, they had 
failed to deprive it of its entire brim and crown, and 
the shreds that remained still adhered to each other 
with a tenacity that spoke eloquently of their former 
harmonious love. His ill-conditioned apparel, like a 
divided household, evinced a strong disposition to mu- 
tiny and separate, and though much had been done to 
keep it together, evidently by his own unskilful hands, 
it still obstinately resisted his kind endeavors. Kent 
pieces of what had once borne a resemblance to cloth 
dangled loosely about his ankles, his knees and elbows, 


/ 


BREAM OP A LOAFER. 209 

refusing to be confined, bad broken tbrougb tbe>tender 
barriers that bad encased them, and many an old patch 
about bis person would flap and flutter as tbe soft breeze 
whispered by him. These outward evidences of decay, 
having penetrated no deeper than his garments, exhibi- 
ted his healthy and robust proportions in attractive and 
amusing contrast. A smile of satisfaction, which many 
of his more fortunate and prosperous neighbors might 
have envied, only contributed to bring out his promi- 
nent lips in bolder relief, and his countenance was ra- 
diant with that self-content which admires whatever is 
presented, and finds no fault with anything but incon- 
venience and labor. Happily for him, his rulers were 
more indulgent than Draco, the Athenian law-giver, 
who punished idleness with death, and the laws under 
which h^ lived more lenient than those of the ancient 
Gauls, which imposed a penalty upon the young for Ex- 
ceeding the measure of their girdles, because ^^so large 
a paunch, at such early years, could proceed from 
nothing else but laziness and gormandizing.^' Blessed 
by having been born in more auspicious times, he 
seemed fully aware of his better destiny. Leaning 
against the shady side of his venerable friend, in whose 
mute companionship he so much delighted, he was look- 
ing leisurely around, as if engaged in taking the exact 
measurement of every object that met his vision. His 
18 * 


aio 


BECORDS. 


easy carelessness appeared to make him oblivious of the 
busy world; being only occasionally disturbed as he 
gazed, now upon some blackened chimney, perhaps 
scenting the delicious odors of a grand Epicurean feast 
in the ascending smoke, then upon some stately man- 
sion, no doubt pondering upon the tempting yet unat- 
tainable luxuries preparing within. 

The more Peter contemplated this newly discovered 
subject, the more did the apparent similarity in sympa- 
thies and habits to himself, elicit his admiration. There 
is no one, thought he, so eminently wise and philo- 
sophic as the genuine loafer. Whilst the rest of man- 
kind are struggling and grasping, losing to-morrow what 
they held with tenacious clutch to-day, this idle phi- 
losopher looks calmly on and laughs at the butterfly 
chase. He sees his fellows contending with bitterness 
and jealousy for a fancied good, and beholds the only 
pleasure it could afford crushed in their own hands in 
their eagerness to attain it. In the conflict around 
him, the passions of men are arrayed against each 
other, and the good sentiments of their natures com- 
pelled to yield before the concussions they encounter. 
It is a struggle in which he sees the most vicious too 
often carry off the greatest prizes, whilst none retires 
from the field without leaving a portion of his soul behind. 
Others may follow the alluring promises which tempt 


DREAM OF A LOAFER. Sll 

them, and be carried away by the first surging wave of 
excitement that sweeps along, he remains unmoved. 
Let the world go as it will, he betakes himself to the 
sweet shade of some friendly tree, and calmly, though 
rudely it may be, philosophises upon the vanities which 
dazzle other eyes and bedizzen other heads, but never 
soften the bed of the grave, nor promise repose beyond 
it. He knows that heaven is not to be purchased by 
the fleeting things that charm the eye and gratify hu- 
man vanity, and the harmony of his spirits is never 
broken up in conflicts to possess them. Happily the 
dial of time moves on, never too slow nor too fast foi 
him, and his even temper keeps him in a perpetual 
calm. Unmoved by the discord around him, he re- 
mains eontent in his solitary leisure, or quietly takes 
his ease with his companions, furnishing a worthy illus- 
tration of genuine and perfect freedom. Even Tully 
himself could not look upon that man as properly free 
who had not the privilege of sometimes doing nothing 
— a privilege rightly appreciated and justly exercised 
only by the loafer. 

As Peter was indulging in these and like reflections, 
the vision upon which he gazed, and which had occa- 
sioned them, suddenly vanished. The rustling of the 
leaves had aroused him from his slumber, and behold ! 
all had been but a dream. Rubbing his eyes and col 


SIS 


RECORDS. 


lecting his wandering thoughts, the only realities that 
greeted his returning senses were the hot sun above 
him, whose burning rays, no longer arrested by the 
shadow, which had gradually moved in another direction, 
had for some time been illuminating his countenance, 
and the unpleasant recollection that the village and his 
home were still several miles distant. To have his 
dreamy fancies thus dispelled by such a disagreeable 
transition, at some other time, might have urged him 
to the exhibition of no little ill-temper; but now he 
had enough to occupy his mind in reflecting upon the 
diversified visions of his dream. These he reviewed 
again and again, until unable to submit any longer to 
that itching desire which so often disturbs the ease of 
poor mortals when they imagine they have something 
interesting to communicate, he arose and slowly com- 
menced the exceeding great labor of walking to the vil- 
lage. He reached it at last, just as the sun was sinking 
into the far west, and panting from the heat, more than 
from the exertion, he again seated himself in front of 
the tavern. He had added greatly to his store, and at 
once commenced to detail the events of his dream, and 
from that day to this he has faithfully continued to nar- 
rate them to every willing or unwilling listener 


M. H. 


CONCLUSION. 


Although tlie editor cannot see the least necessity for in- 
forming the readers of the “ Records” that they have now 
reached the end of his hook, (a fact which they would so 
certainly have discovered without his aid,) his reverence 
for well-esta‘*^lished precedents would not permit him to 
consider his volume fully completed without a “Conclu- 
sion.” Those who have thus far perused it, must have 
observed that the papers it contains were the products of in- 
tervals of time stolen from the regular pursuits of their 
authors. This, however, though it may be somewhat of an 
apology for the imperfections of the manuscripts them- 
selves, can afford no excuse for the editor. He fully ac- 
knowledges his responsibility for all the faults of the book, 
well knowing that he cannot be justified in thrusting it 
before a public already so terribly afflicted with the dregs 
of literature, unless it shall contain something to amuse 
or instruct. This reflection, at one time, overcame his de- 
termination to send the manuscripts to the publisher. 
Upon more mature deliberation, however, he blundered 
upon the conclusion, that if this be not, in fact, the age 
of literary mediocrity, our people have so much indulged 
it that it has, in its bold effrontery, risen to a premium 
and obtained greater “success” (to use a publisher’s term,) 
than ever crowned the highest talent. Where brave men 
had failed, the coward often succeeded, and thus infused 
( 213 ) 


914 


RECORDS. 


a boisterous and overflowing courage into the whole army 
of little patriots, making them as presumptuous and pugi- 
listic as the saucy cur which thinks the honor lies in at- 
tacking its superiors rather than in conquering them. A 
similar cause, it may be, has produced like efiects amongst 
authors, and the editor is by no means certain that it has 
not been instrumental in emboldening him to send his vo- 
lume forth upon its voyage. However this may be, he can 
now only bespeak for it the treatment which the reader 
may think it deserves — nothing more. He might perhaps 
have made better selections from the stock on hand, but 
he is not certain that this would have added to the at- 
tractions of the book. He can only promise, that upon 
the success of this volume of the ^Records, depends the 
fate of the rest — whether they shall be given to the world, 
or remain in the murky receptacles of the Old Association. 


THE END, 

















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